


Here From Eden

by Slow_Burn_Sally



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), Eventual Smut, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Frottage, Love Confessions, M/M, Pining through the ages, Slow Burn, Smut, Top Aziraphale (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-12 12:34:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 32,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20564420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slow_Burn_Sally/pseuds/Slow_Burn_Sally
Summary: Just a typical slow burn of these two through history. Angel meets Demon. Demon thinks angel is an idiot. It slowly dawns on demon that angel is actually quite attractive. Angel thinks demon is a ne'er do well. It slowly dawns on angel that demon is hot af and rather sweet.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I can't stop writing about these two, so here's a rambling slow burn love story with a barely stitched together plot. I wanted to explore the headcannon that Crowley crushes on Aziraphale a bit right away, but then starts to second guess himself when he sees Aziraphale's half hearted support of God's Ineffable mass murder (the flood, the crucifixion etc.)
> 
> I hope you enjoy! The lovely comments on my work are so appreciated. Makes my whole damn week brighter! <3

  
  


Crawly was enjoying the garden. He’d coiled himself lazily atop a warm rock near the waterfall, letting the rushing sound of water splashing and the heat of the new sun warm his blood as he napped a bit. 

_ “Get up there and make some trouble”  _ They’d told him.  _ Fine. Whatever _ . He’d get to making some trouble when he found some trouble to make. But right now, what was far more compelling was sunning himself on a rock. No sun down Underneath. No lovely splashy waterfalls or hot rocks to lie on either. Well.. to be fair, there  _ were  _ all sorts of hot things in Hell, but none of them were pleasant. Not by a long shot. 

The only other creatures in this beautiful place were Adam and Eve, (naked and oblivious and wandering about like a pair of insanely good looking adult infants) and one fussy, nervous angel with a flaming sword. Crawly assumed the sword was meant to be used to protect the humans. God’s precious humans. Pfft.  _ what was so special about them? _ Crawly was a touch bitter. 

The angel hadn’t noticed him yet. Which was all well and good. In Crawly’s limited experience with angels, they tended to be stuffy twats who rather quickly developed a habit of trying to kick him, stab him or do whatever they could to smite him. He supposed he couldn’t blame them, him being an unrepentant fallen angel, minion of Lucifer, and denizen of the dark pits of Hell and all. One who spent most of his time in the form of a giant, glossy, black serpent with a red belly. Not exactly a look that inspired confidence and warmth. 

And so on the first day, he’d avoided the angel with the flaming sword. He seemed like a nice enough chap really. He had a kind face and a bright smile, and he enjoyed talking with the humans, animatedly waving his thick, well shaped hands in the air as he did so (often laying his sword down absently so he could express himself with more enthusiasm). He didn’t seem like the type to stomp and kick and stab. But… you never knew. Angels were firmly under the category of Couldn’t Be Trusted. 

Not that you could trust demons farther than you could throw them, slimy bastards… but at least with a demon, you knew you were on the same side. There was a satanic hierarchy and Crawly was relatively high up on that ladder. Very few demons would dare to start trouble with him. Perhaps only Beelzebub, or Lucifer Himself. The lower orders of demon would stab him in the back if it afforded them the appropriate amount of personal benefit, but wouldn’t actually start anything to his face. Crawly had apparently been something of a big deal before he’d fallen (not that he could remember anything from  _ before _ ), and now he was sort of a celebrity Down Below. That, and he knew how to work the system. Dodging and weaving, flattering and threatening. He was Mr. Slick he was. A right flash bastard with a silver tongue. 

Angels however, they owed him nothing. They were in fact tasked with thwarting him on sight. And so he hung back, curled in the shadows when the angel was near. 

He hadn’t seen all that many opportunities to cause trouble in The Garden. It was a lovely place, but quite boring if he were completely honest. Everything was verdant and green and lush. Adam and Eve were simple minded and pleasant. Not really much of a happening scene. And then, on the second day, he found the apple tree. It had sprouted up, tall and lush a few meters away from one of the larger waterfalls, it’s fruit laden branches swaying gently in the ever present warm breezes coming in off the desert. The fruit of the tree was red and lush and almost indecent in it’s blazing scarlet color. It reminded Crawly of his own dark copper hair, when he took human form, and of the red scales decorating his underbelly as a snake. He liked red. 

The tree had seemed strangely out of character for God. A bit too... sexy? But then… then he’d seen the small wooden placard in front of the tree that read “The Tree Of Knowledge. Do Not Eat” and he’d understood.  _ Of course.  _ A pair of bumbling brand new humans with zero idea of what they were doing here, with no one to guard them but a polite simpleton who couldn’t even remember to keep his flaming sword on him. Clearly, this was a situation that was low on knowledge and ripe for temptation. 

Crawly hatched a very simple plan. Tempt the female into eating of the fruit of knowledge. He could have just as easily tempted the male, but Adam (he’d heard the angel say the human’s names during one of their meandering, dull conversations about nothing) was tall and well muscled and Crawly didn’t want to risk angering him. He was pretty sure however that he could outrun/out slither the female, who was smaller and curvier. 

Not yet though. He wanted to suss out the situation further. If the angel caught wind of it and got angry, it could go very poorly for Crawly. And so he watched the angel, more intently than he had before, from his vantage point down in the tall grasses or from within the shadows under the other fruit trees (there were many). The angel was a simple creature. Soft and a bit plump, dressed in those impractical, gleaming, spotless robes they all wore. He had ridiculous hair. Bright white blond. Not short enough to be standard, celestial military issue. Not long enough to fully execute a proper curl. It stuck out from his head in spastic spikes and half-curls, making him look even more like a clueless bumkin. Not exactly threatening.

The angel’s voice was lilting and musical and he seemed to be perpetually babbling on about something. The sky and how blue it was. The different species of plants in the garden. How nice it was to have people to talk to “down here” blah blah blah. Crawly wondered if maybe God had done a bit of a half assed job when she’d made this one. He was perpetually in a good mood, tempered only by a nervous sort of twitchiness. Hands fluttering as he spoke, stopping periodically to smooth down his robes or to look around distractedly for his oft-abandoned sword. 

By the third day, Crawly was fairly certain that this plump, fussy creature was highly unlikely to call down the powers of celestial vengeance upon him. He barely seemed to want to touch the flaming sword, which in itself was rather strange. Most angels seemed highly attached to their weapons and appeared to get a kick out of the whole smiting business, but not this one. He seemed content to sample the fruits of The Garden (not the apples of course, but peaches, plumbs, apricots. He seemed especially fond of pears) and to chat amiably with the clueless humans. 

This would be too easy. 

And so it was on the 7th day that Crawly decided to leap (slither) into action. He slowly slunk his way up to Eve and hissed sweet words of encouragement in her ear

_ “Hey there gorgeous. There’s *one* fruit you haven’t tried yet. See that tree over there? That lush, big, green one with those delicious red fruits? I wonder what they taste like? I bet your boyfriend would just *love* to try one of those out wouldn’t he?”  _

“Oh I don’t know, Mr. Snake” Eve had vacillated. “Angel Aziraphale told us not eat of the tree of knowledge. God decreed that we shouldn’t”

_ Aziraphale huh?  _ Crawly filed the angel’s name away in his serpent’s brain for later use. To Eve though he said

“ _ Come on now darling. It’s just an apple. They can’t hurt you. It’s probably the most delicious thing you’ve ever tasted. And won’t Adam be happy when you bring him one to try”  _ he hissed the words seductively, intimately into the soft brown shell of her ear. She smelled nice. 

“Well…” Eve faltered in her resolve, her pretty brown eyes flitting up to look at the branches of the forbidden tree. 

_ I have her now _ thought Crawly with satisfaction. Out loud, he hissed “ _ That’s it sweetheart. Just one bite. It won’t do any harm. The angel doesn’t have to know” _

He watched with devilish anticipation as the poor idiot walked purposefully towards the tree, her wide hips swinging, her long curly hair flowing down her naked back. Watched her reach up and grasp one of the low hanging apples and pull it from the branch. Crawly began to slither back away from the tree, back into the shadows to observe from a distance. It wouldn’t do to be found at the scene of the crime. He watched from his hiding place as Eve contemplated the lush, red fruit in her hand for a moment, before baring her straight, white teeth and biting into the scarlet skin and pale flesh with a loud crunch. 

He watched as her face immediately changed, from one of happy, oblivious wonder to one of shock, watched her run off to bring the apple to her man.  _ Misery loves company doesn’t it?  _ Thought Crawly with satisfaction. 

____________________________

Things progressed rather quickly from there. Eve brought the apple to Adam, who like the handsome dunce he was, immediately took a bite. They both looked at each other with shock and awe, then looked down at their own nakedness, gasping in surprise at the dangly bits they both possessed as if deeply ashamed. 

_ Excellent  _ Thought Crawly with satisfaction. God’s peaceful, fancy little Garden wasn’t quite so perfect any longer was it? Apparently, he’d done even better than he’d expected. He overheard the angel (Aziraphale was it?) as he explained to the newly enlightened humans that because they’d disobeyed the word of God, they were to be cast out of paradise ( _ welcome to the club _ Crawly thought bitterly from his hiding place in the shadows). Now that they’d eaten of the tree of knowledge, they must make their way out into the harsh, cruel world.. They must go forward and multiply. That piece of advice had seemed a bit redundant, being that Crawly had observed the two rubbing up against each other rather athletically whenever they had a moment alone. In fact, if Eve’s extra roundness were any indication, she was already with child. 

Crawly slunk away into the underbrush before anyone noticed him, but not before hearing Eve exclaim to Aziraphale with anguish

“But… but… the s-serpent! He talked me into it!”

“Well now my dear.” Aziraphale said with a sad, regretful note to his musical voice, though he did not sound unkind “What did you expect? He’s a demon. That’s what he does”

So.. the angel was aware of Crawly’s existence… and more than that, he knew  _ what  _ Crawly was and what he’d done, yet he wasn’t storming through the garden, brandishing his sword and calling for the serpent’s blood. Hmmmm. Interesting. Maybe the angel wasn’t as stupid as the serpent had assumed. Surprisingly, he didn’t even seem angry. More mildly disappointed. Crawly was gripped with a sudden urge to get closer and investigate this strange creature. 

As Aziraphale stood, silently but nervously atop the wall of the Garden, gazing out at the two humans, making their way out into the desert, (clothed now in cleverly placed ivy branches to hide their naughty bits), Crawly had dared to slither up beside him. He had slowly allowed his serpent shape to transform into that of a male human, because frankly he found conversations went much better when all parties involved were of the same general species. Crawly let his coal black wings unfurl as he felt his scales coalesce into arms and legs and a differentiated head, his neck slimming, his shoulders broadening. He let dark robes form in stylish folds about his body in a way he hoped would be pleasing. One didn’t get a second chance at a first impression did one? His scarlet hair grew in ripples and cascaded around his human face as he turned to address the angel for the first time. 

“Well, he drawled casually. That went down like a lead balloon.” 

He was momentarily taken aback as the angel turned his head to regard him with large, hazel eyes, the color of storm clouds. Close up, Aziraphale was quite pleasing to look at. Not surprising that. Angels were often attractive. It went along with being one of God’s chosen didn’t it? “I’m sorry.. What was that?” the angel asked, seeming distracted and having to do a double take when he regarded Crawly. 

“I said, that went down like a lead balloon” Crawly repeated, affecting the tone of a coworker remarking on a failed presentation. He felt it was best to distance himself from blame at this point. Act as if this whole apple business was just a lark that had gone off wrong, rather than something he’d done very much on purpose. 

“Yes.. yes it did rather” remarked the angel, assessing him with wary eyes. His face was very pleasing indeed Crawly thought as he appraised the angel’s features. Large, hazel eyes crinkled anxiously under expressive eyebrows. His nose was upturned just a tiny bit at the end, his well shaped lips pressed into a worried frown. The angel’s body was thick and soft, unlike the Adonis model most angels went for these days. Probably he’d been eating a lot of fruit and nuts up here. He certainly seemed very fond of food. This was also unusual, as Crawly assumed most angels turned their noses up at human sustenance. Not  _ this _ one apparently. 

Crawly introduced himself and they’d chatted amiably for a few minutes about God’s stupid Ineffable Plan (the angel was spouting the celestial party line from wrote), when suddently, Crawly, still a little taken aback at not being yelled at, or kicked or smited, noticed that something was missing.

“Didn’t you have a flaming sword?” he asked casually.

The angel grew clearly uncomfortable and stuttered something incoherent. 

“What? Lost it already have you?”  _ Satan help me, he *is* an idiot  _ Crawly thought uncharitably  _ the pretty ones are always a bit dense. _

Which was why the angel’s next words were so shocking to him. 

“I gave it away” Aziraphale mumbled. Almost inaudibly. 

“You  _ WHAT?!” He WHAT?? _

“I GAVE IT AWAY!” Aziraphale yelled, his face suffused with worry. “There are vicious animals! It’ll be cold out there! And she’s expecting already!” he continued, validating his decision in desperation to a demon, who quite frankly was having a bit of trouble absorbing this change of events. 

Crawly blinked, his mouth gaping open in surprise.  _ Who is this person? How could someone so worried and nervous and clearly mentally deficient do something so very… rebellious?? _ Why, it sounded more like something a demon would do. He felt a grudging respect for the angel take root somewhere inside him, in a place that made him a bit uncomfortable. He swiftly reassessed his original opinion that Aziraphale was an unmitigated fool. It took guts to defy God’s Will. He’d been unaware that angels even did that sort of thing without being cast out. Crawly himself had certainly paid the price for simply asking the wrong questions, and here was this soft, nervous fool with hair like vanilla cotton candy,  _ giving his sword away _ ! To humans no less! 

Once Crawly realized that his mouth was hanging open and promptly shut it again, they’d chatted amiably for a few more minutes. Aziraphale had worried that he might have done the “wrong thing”, and Crawly reassured him “Oh you’re an  _ angel _ . I don’t think you  _ can  _ do the wrong thing”. At which point Aziraphale did not _ at all  _ pick up on:   
  
1\. The irony that he was so effectively relieved by a  _ demon  _ reassuring him that he was on the right track, and ...   
  
2\. Crawly’s blatant sarcasm when he’d done the reassuring.

Meanwhile, while they spoke atop the wall, they watched Adam, looking gallant and muscular, virtually chop a lion in half with said flaming sword. 

_ Huh.. I suppose the thing did come in handy  _ thought Crawly, as the angel turned a slightly lighter shade of pale. 

  
When the raindrops from the earth’s very first rain storm had started to fall, Crawly got his second shock in probably 10 minutes when the angel had lifted his wing to offer him shelter from the pelting droplets. Crawly had gratefully accepted, touched by this strange creature’s openness and kindness. He’d edged carefully closer to Aziraphale, feeling a solid warmth radiating from the angel’s soft body.  _ Mmmmm that was nice _ . Crawly, being naturally cold blooded, liked anything that was warmer than himself. This renegade angel really was quite unlike anyone Crawly had met before. 


	2. Chapter 2

The earth spun round and round, thousands upon thousands of times as Adam and Eve’s many descendents multiplied and peopled the earth with their number. Spreading out, creating different languages and cultures. It was Mesopotamia, 3004 BC and Aziraphale stood, worried as usual, in a small cordoned off area with some curious locals as he watched a long stream of animals of all types, marching two by two towards Noah’s massive Arc. 

The locals hadn’t listened to Noah when he’d warned them of the Great Flood to come. They’d laughed at him, but now, watching the animals file by in pairs, they’d started to get a bit curious, and maybe a bit nervous. Aziraphale of course knew that the Flood was coming. It had been decreed by God Almighty. He wasn’t happy about it, but, well, what She said was Divine Law. It must come to pass simply because She’d said it should. It was all part of the Ineffable Plan wasn’t it? 

He hadn’t expected to see Crawly. The demon had the habit of showing up randomly when Aziraphale least expected it. Not that he was displeased by this exactly. 

He liked Crawly, even though he knew he really shouldn’t. The demon had a lively sense of humor and an interesting perspective, and he was ever so friendly (if a bit snarky and cynical from time to time). Aziraphale often felt lonely on his long assignment. The years stretched by with no one but humans to talk to, and well, if you’d been one of only two immortal beings tasked with watching human development over the course of several hundred years, you couldn’t help but feel a bit .. parental towards them. It was hard to form lasting and meaningful attachments when your friends had the tendency to die off every 50 or 60 years. 

Not that he’d formed a lasting or meaningful attachment to Crawly of all people. Perish the thought! Crawly was a demon. Not to be trusted. Definitely not to be  _ befriended _ . They  _ weren’t friends _ . But… they were…  _ coworkers? Compatriots? _ No, that seemed too familiar. Polite adversaries? Yes, that would do. His  _ polite adversary  _ Crawly did have a habit of popping up randomly at times when Aziraphale was feeling his loneliest. Or perhaps it was the sharp contrast of his every day solitariness when suddenly confronted with the demon’s smiling face that made it  _ seem _ lonely before Crawly came around? 

Even from the very beginning, Crawly had an uncanny ability of just  _ being there _ when Aziraphale needed someone to talk to. That first time, up on the wall of The Garden, he’d materialized just as Aziraphale was really starting to work himself up into a tizzy over giving his sword away. Strangely, Aziraphale couldn’t summon up the energy to be angry at the demon for starting the whole apple mess. Why was that? Aziraphale was unsure. 

Perhaps is was simply because he’d been glad to have someone to  _ really talk to _ . 

Other angels didn’t really converse casually. They were far too busy working. They sang God’s praises and spoke of God’s Divine Glory and appeared in terrifying beams of light when they spoke to humans at all (which was very very rarely) unlike Aziraphale who walked freely among humans, blessing and aiding and supporting as he went. The other angles left most of the human management to Aziraphale, and he had never once stopped to think that this might be an unsavory duty to be foisted on him by higher ups who didn’t want to deal with it. He’d loved humanity instantly, and greatly enjoyed watching their story unfold before his eyes. 

And Crawly honestly seemed to have similar motives. Despite the fact that he was tempting instead of blessing, the demon really did appear to enjoy himself down here among the human rabble. It was one of the few things they had in common. Aziraphale had never had the heart to try and smite the demon. And after their pleasant (if awkward) conversation back in The Garden, it had seemed rude to do so. They knew one another now, for better or worse. 

And so when Crawly had appeared in a flurry of long, rippling red hair and dark robes at Aziraphale’s elbow while he watched the animals file by, he’d felt a small twinge of relief. His old enemy was here at his side. His polite adversary. Back again for a chat. 

Things had gone slightly downhill when he’d imparted to Crawly that God was planning to drown all the humans. He’d frankly been surprised to see the look of horror flit across Crawly’s face at his mention of God’s latest decree. Just the locals of course, but yes… the children too. 

“ _ You can’t kill kids! _ ” the demon had hissed in shock. Aziraphale wondered why he cared. Weren’t demons supposed to delight in murder and mayhem? 

“Well, that’s the type of thing you’d expect  _ my  _ lot to do” Crawly had exclaimed, as if he’d read Aziraphale’s mind. Aziraphale noted with further surprise that Crawly appeared to distance himself from “my lot”. He didn’t say “something you’d expect  _ me _ to do”, but rather “ _ my lot _ ”. 

Was he imagining things, or had the demon’s face twisted a bit in bitter resentment when he’d heard Aziraphale pathetically offer up the whole rainbow thing as a solace to the fact that God was drowning thousands of people for no apparent reason at all? The demon seemed disgusted and unimpressed. Aziraphale felt a sudden stab of regret over his professional proximity to this latest decree. He knew he wasn’t to blame for the approaching mass murder, but he couldn’t help but feel partly culpable for what “his people” were setting into motion. 

And the way Crawly looked at him, that look of betrayal, clearly said “I thought better of you”. Which was hurtful, but also very surprising. Why was a demon this upset about the death of a few humans? Perhaps the old serpent had a heart somewhere, deep inside his narrow chest? 

Aziraphale felt suddenly defensive under the onslaught of Crawly’s disapproval. “You can’t judge the Almighty Crawly!” He’d snapped back. “God’s plans are…”

“Are you going to say ineffable?” Crawly interrupted Aziraphale with a sarcastic look in his brilliant yellow eyes. 

Aziraphale was dutifully chastised, and apparently, quite predictable. He felt the wind swiftly drain out of his proverbial sails. He knew talk about God and her Ineffable Plan had upset the demon, and that didn’t feel… good. It felt rather bad actually. He had a lump of discontent and guilt stuck at the base of his throat and he couldn’t dislodge it, no matter how many times he swallowed. 

It was a mercy really when the unicorn bolted away from the long line of animals, headed towards the ark. Crawly, ever helpful when things were just a bit too far gone to be saved, had given off his silent disapproval of Aziraphale in order to yell ineffectually at Noah. “Oi Shem! That unicorn’s gonna make a run for it!”

This time, when the rain started to fall, Aziraphale had no wings to shelter Crawly under them, and he doubted the demon wanted to be that close to him anyway. The two had stalked off in opposite directions, seeking shelter from the pelting rain. Aziraphale was somewhat stung by Crawly not even bothering to say goodbye. 

___________________________

They met again at the crucifiction of Jesus Christ. Not the most cheerful of occasions. 

“Come to smirk at the poor bugger av you?” grumbled Crawly, appearing again at Aziraphale’s elbow, standing frustratingly back out of view, so that the angel would have to turn his head to see the demon. 

After a quick glance, Aziraphale noticed how lovely Crawly’s rippling red curls looked, spilling from the dark robes he wore to shield his head and body from the hot sun

That was a funny thing to notice about one’s polite adversary, but the demon did have rather good hair. Unlike Aziraphale’s crazy profusion of white blond spikes and squibbles, jutting out in all directions. Aziraphale reminded himself that he was here to witness the rather horrible sight of a kind and innocent man being nailed to a large, wooden cross in the name of someone Aziraphale worked for. These meetings could sometimes be uncomfortable when they centered around terrible things that God seemed to want to do to humans. 

“Smirk? Me?” he asked with weary incredulity. How dare the demon imply that he was enjoying this? 

“You’re lot put him on there” the demon replied simply. He had a point. 

“I’m not consulted on policy decisions Crawly” Aziraphale said, hoping that reminding Crawly of his lack of input in Heaven’s game plan would clear him of this awful feeling of guilt that had settled in the middle of his chest. Why did he spend so much time feeling guilty over the judgments of a  _ demon _ ? 

“Oh, I’ve changed it” Crawly said

“Changed what?” Aziraphale was knocked slightly off guard by the redirect in conversation.

“My name” remarked the demon. Turns out he wanted to be called “Crowley” now.  _ Well  _ thought Aziraphale with a small measure of relief  _ at least it will be easy to remember _

He was mildly shocked to hear that not only did  _ Crowley _ know Jesus personally (what a strange pair!) but that he’d shown him all the kingdoms of the world.. Simply because he’d liked him, and as a carpenter from Galilee, the man’s travel opportunities had been limited. This was certainly unusual behavior for a demon was it not? Befriending nice people and doing nice things for them? Who  _ was _ this strange, conflicting creature standing beside him?

Aziraphale had been certain he’d understood Crowley’s character and motivations upon first meeting him, but the demon was full of surprises, and now, he wasn’t so sure he could put a finger on what Crowley wanted or what type of demon he was. Not being sure was an uncomfortable place for an angel to be, when your boss was the creator of the entire universe, an omnipotent, omnipresent being of limitless power, feeling uncertain was… unsettling. Crowley was unsettling. 

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

It was 8 years after the crucifiction of Christ. Crowley pulled up a stool at a seedy tavern in Rome and ordered “A mug of whatever you’ve got that’s drinkable” The serving girl had handed him a “Jug of house brown.” costing two sesterces, and Crowley accepted the brown swill, using a demonic spell to change it immediately to a much higher quality of wine. He was just preparing to take a sip when he heard a familiar, musical voice break into his silent contemplation of the horrible state of the world. 

“Well! Crawly- Crowley!” it was the angel, and Crowley was in no mood to deal with him today. He’d seen a bit too much depravity at the hands of celestial forces in the past few thousand years. He leaned back in his chair and fixed Azirapahle with a look that said  _ what do *you* want?  _

“Fancy, running into  _ you _ here!” The angel looked out of place with his glowing robes and bright white-yellow hair and his big, smiling face.  _ At least he’s happy to see me _ Crowley grumped to himself. Sometimes the angel could be stuffy and defensive. 

Aziraphale settled himself on a stool next to Crowley. “Still a demon then?” he asked conversationally.

“What kind of stupid question is that.. Still a demon? What else am I gonna be? An aardvark?!” Crowley felt his irritation levels climbing, and he fixed the sunny goody two shoes with a  _ go away right now _ look.

Unphased, and undaunted in his apparent mission to be friendly, Aziraphale ignored the look and the sharp response. He lifted his own mug, probably still filled with the muddy, brown excuse for wine they served in places like this and chirped “Saluteria!” in a voice that was way too friendly for the cold reception he was currently receiving from Crowley. “In town long?” he asked

Crowley decided to relent and at least be civil. “Just nipped in for a quick temptation. You?”

“I thought I’d try Patronas’ new restaurant” Aziraphale remarked casually. “I hear he does  _ remarkable  _ things to oysters” My but the angel had a way of talking about food as if it were something far filthier and far more enjoyable than it actually was. Crowley wondered absently if Aziraphale had ever dipped his toes into any carnal delights beyond food. Out loud, he mused “I’ve never eaten an oyster”

“Oh!” Aziraphale exclaimed excitedly “Then let me  _ tempt  _ you to-”

_ WHAT??  _

Crowley swiftly leaned back in his chair to shoot the angel a sharp look that stopped him in his tracks. Aziraphale, realizing he’d misstepped somehow, backpedaled charmingly, his eyes suddenly shy, flitting down and then up again in bashful self consciousness “Oh… oh.. That’s  _ your job  _ isn’t it?” his cautious grin was…  _ mischievous?  _

  
  


Crowley shot an appraising look at the angel over his smoked lenses, his eyebrows rising towards his hairline in pleasant surprise. Did this  _ angel _ just make a joke about  _ temptation _ , to a  _ demon _ ? Aziraphale at least had the good sense to blush slightly at his social faux pas. 

Crowley silently reassessed his opinion of Aziraphale yet again. At first, back in the Garden, he’d assumed he was an idiot. Then, after the sword incident, he’d thought of Aziraphale as possibly a rebellious trouble maker, who simply didn’t  _ look _ like a rebellious trouble maker. But then, after seeing him guiltily supporting God’s murderous plans to wipe out large swaths of humanity and his tacit, grudging approval of the crucifiction, Crowley had grown a bit sour on the angel. He was just another corporate shill. That was all. Maybe a pretty one, and a nice one (where Crowley was concerned anyway), but a shill nonetheless. Probably not to be trusted. 

But now…

_ “Let me tempt you”  _

Angels didn’t talk that way. They just did NOT say things like that. Especially with a small, shy smile playing about on their soft lips. 

After they’d continued drinking in somewhat awkward silence for a few more moments, Crowley spoke up.

“Alright. Sure” he said, placing his jug of wine on the bar and fixing Aziraphale with a sly look. 

“I’m sorry.. ? what?” queried the angel, his mug halting, partway to his lips. 

“Alright, you’ve managed to successfully tempt me to eat oysters. Let’s go to Patronas’s place.”

The angel looked momentarily shocked. His jaw fell partly open in a way Crowley found very satisfying, the mug of wine slowly returning to the surface of the wooden bar. “Oh I didn’t mean.. I… Just thought that.. “ He stuttered nervously, which only made Crowley smile.

“You said you wanted to tempt me didn’t you?” Crowley let a tiny touch of flirtation flit through his tone. Why not? He  _ was _ a demon wasn’t he? Let’s see just how far he could tug this nervous angel towards uncharted territory. It’s not like he was planning to seduce him or anything.

_ Now where had that thought come from? _

“I suppose I did rather.” Aziraphale admitted “ But.. I only meant to express how delicious these..”

“No. No” interupted Crowley. “You did in fact  _ mean _ to tempt me, and it worked. Lets go”

Before Aziraphale could protest or back out, he rose from his stool and grabbing a fistful of the angel’s white robes, he pulled them both out the door and onto the street. The angel gave a surprised yelp, but didn’t resist him. Patronas’s place was across town, but with a snap of Crowley’s fingers, they were standing outside the restaurant. The smell of olive oil and spices wafting out from behind the ratty blanket Patronas used to cover the doorway did in fact smell tempting. 

Before long, they were seated in front of a wooden tray covered with multiple raw oysters on the half shell, drizzled in lemon juice and some rare sea salt. Aziraphale happily tucked in and had knocked back three before he realized that Crowley wasn’t following suit. 

“My dear boy” he said, around a wet mouthful of oyster. “Aren’t you going to try one?” 

Crowley looked suspiciously down at the wobbling thing, glistening on its shell on the wooden tray. He was unwilling to admit that he didn’t really feel any desire to eat an actual oyster, but that he’d only dragged Aziraphale here on a lark, hoping that the angel would be scandalized and balk at eating with a demon and call the whole thing off. 

But Aziraphale had sat right down and ordered from the serving girl with a comfortable authority that showed absolutely no signs of him feeling awkward or inappropriate about Crowley sitting across from him. He’d called Crowley’s bluff, and now Crowley would have to eat a cold, wet, fishy thing to prove that he wasn’t out just to try to unnerve the angel. 

_ You’re a demon  _ he reminded himself as he eyed the slimy thing on the shell sitting in front of him  _ you’ve seen worse. _

Summoning his courage, he grabbed one, opened his mouth and knocked it down in one gulp. It was…. Surprisingly palatable. Briny and slippery, but the lemon and the salt mixed well with the taste of fishiness. He looked up into a pair of curious hazel eyes.

“How was it?” Aziraphale asked, already absently reaching for his fifth oyster. 

“Not bad” replied Crowley. “Not worth eternal Hellfire, but quite good”

“I’m glad you like them.” Aziraphale said and beamed him a brilliant smile. Crowley felt a strange feeling in his chest. He chalked it up to indigestion. 

“So,” Continued Aziraphale “Where are you off to after this?” He was swiftly polishing off most of the rest of the oysters, but Crowley noticed that he’d left a couple of the ones nearest Crowley alone so that the demon could have more if he wanted. 

“Headed to Raetia to corrupt some city planners and tempt a nobleman’s daughter to cheat on her husband. Why are you in town? It can’t just be the oysters”

“No.. I’m here on business as well. Headed in the opposite direction actually. To Sicilia to help with the inspiration of a new temple.”

“Ahh” remarked Crowley in a tone he thought portrayed interest. He suddenly had a desire to drink more wine. “Want to have a few mugs of vino before you head out? I’ve found a way to significantly improve it’s quality”

He watched a ghost of apprehension flicker across the angel’s face, but was pleased when he quickly relented. “Certainly dear boy. Why, whom else do I have to talk business to?”

“Business… sure” Crowley raised his hand and ordered them a jug of wine and two mugs. 

  
  


____________________

Three hours later they were both completely pissed. Aziraphale, after draining the last few droplets of significantly demonically improved wine from his clay mug, was in the middle of his best Gabriel impression. “Aziraphale!” the angel yelled, attempting to affect Gabriel’s square jawed, utterly humorless facial expressions and his flat accent “You’ve been spending  _ way  _ too much time eating and performing frivolous miracles! Fill these out in triplicate and put that nose to the grindstone! Humanity won’t help itself!”

He paused, giggling, pleased to see that he’d caused a wicked smile to creep its way across Crowley’s face with his irreverent impression. “Thing is” he continued with a hiccup, swaying gently on his stool, “Humanity  _ does  _ help itself. They’ve done so many fantastic things, all on their own. You and I are just sort of here to make sure we push our side’s agenda now and then aren’t we?”

The demon had removed his glasses a few mugs ago. The other drunk humans didn’t seem to mind, assuming he had some birth defect. It didn’t hurt that most people in Rome at this time in history believed in multiple gods that begot multiple half human, half god hybrids with antlers and udders and any number of other strange animal attributes. Snake eyes were simply par for the course. His yellow eyes flashed with mirth as he listened to Aziraphale speak.  _ My but his eyes are interesting  _ Aziraphale mused hazily.  _ Quite pretty really.  _ The thought managed to sober him up a little bit. One shouldn’t think a demon had pretty eyes if one were an angel, should one?

“Same here angel” The demon replied, snapping his fingers to refill both of their mugs. “My side doesn’t even seem to care. They check in now and then, to make sure I’m doing the bare minimum. I usually just take credit for bad stuff the humans come up with and don’t bother going too far out of my way to be honest.”

Aziraphale didn’t know what to make of this “I’m sure that’s all well and good for a demon” he remarked, gratefully taking another gulp of wine. “But us angels are under far more scrutiny”. 

“Is that so?” Remarked Crowley with a glint in his eye, but he didn’t pursue the subject further. 

Eventually, when they were both listing in their seats, they decided it was time to call it a night. They walked unsteadily out of the restaurant and out onto the street together.

Crowley said something irreverent that Aziraphale forgot the second he’d said it, but that nevertheless made him double over in laughter, and before the angel could stop himself, he reached out and grabbed Crowley’s exposed arm for support. He heard a sharp intake of breath and pulled himself back upright to look into a pair of surprised yellow eyes, then looked down at his hand where it was still clutching Crowley’s smooth, lanky forearm so that the angel didn’t topple over into the gutter. 

He quickly released Crowley’s arm and took a step back, realizing belatedly that he’d touched a demon, skin to skin. Crowley immediately looked away, down the street, probably trying to orient himself towards his domicile, and possibly averting his eyes to give Aziraphale time to gather his wits. Very polite he was. Aziraphale blushed hotly and smoothed down his rumpled robes. 

_ It didn’t hurt  _ He thought with wonder. He was sure that touching the flesh of a demon was supposed to burn him, wasn’t it? It wasn’t supposed to feel smooth and soft and pleasant to touch a demon. Their skin was slimy and acidic wasn’t it? 

_ Not Crowley’s skin apparently _ . Aziraphale decided it was time to sober up a bit. He concentrated on pushing the wine out of his veins and out into the air in a pink mist, until he stopped wobbling and his head cleared. “Well now” He remarked in a voice that was far steadier than a few moments ago “This has been rather nice. Thank you for treating me to a pleasant evening”

Crowley turned back to regard him with drunken cynicism. A brief look of concentration flashed across his features, before he too straightened up, eyes clear, suddenly far more sober as well. “Yeah. It was fun” he mumbled. “Well. I’ll see you around angel. Good luck with the blessings and such” and with that, he stalked off into the darkened streets. 

Aziraphale watched him go, suddenly aware of a strange feeling working its way through his chest and up into his face in a warm flush. Was it… affection?  _ It couldn’t be _ . He didn’t  _ like _ the demon, did he? That wasn’t allowed. Crowley was his arch nemesis. Not his companion.

Shoving the feelings down inside him, into the same small box where he put his doubts about God’s Ineffable Plan and his dislike of the angel Gabriel, Aziraphale wandered off in the opposite direction towards the rooms he was renting on the other side of the city. It had been quite an interesting night. He felt the urge to lose himself in the reading of some new scrolls he’d purchased recently, to distract himself from these unsettling feelings.


	4. Chapter 4

It was 1601 and Aziraphale was waiting for Crowley in a very empty Globe Theater. A few locals who’d been bored enough, and who possessed the disposable income to buy their way in to watch Hamlet were loafing about. All told, including Aziraphale,  _ and _ Will Shakespeare, there were only a handful of people in the large theater. 

Master Burbage was doing his very best up on stage, and Aziaphale was being as supportive as he could, shouting out encouragements and exclamations to show he was happily following along with the plot. 

He’d stopped to buy some very delicious looking grapes and had just popped one into his mouth when Crowley sauntered over to stand by his left shoulder. Aziraphale could not help but notice that the demon looked rather stylish in his black doublet and hose. And my how fetching his dark copper hair looked, grown out all long like that. Over the centuries, he’d noticed that the demon’s appearance was quite pleasing to him. At first, he’d been very self critical on this point. He should definitely  _ not _ be pleased by the beauty of a creature that had dedicated its existence to sewing discontent and sin in the world. 

But then he’d gotten around it by reminding himself that he was an angel, and angels were meant to appreciate beauty. And since he’d never encountered another demon that even approached Crowley’s rather extreme good looks, well… he was honor bound to take notice wasn’t he? In much the same way he noticed the loveliness of a flowering tree or the brilliant display of a pink-gold sunset out on the ocean. 

A small part of his brain piped up, reminding him that sunsets and flowering trees did not make his pulse race in the way it did when he looked at Crowley, but he patiently beat that voice into submission, just as he’d done countless times before. 

After Crowley had made it perfectly clear that he was taking absolutely no enjoyment from Shakespeare’s “gloomy play” and the playwright himself had come over to commend Aziraphale for his active participation, Aziraphale had turned to Crowley to remark how good Burbage was. 

“Age does not wither, nor custom stale his infinite variety” The demon said, in a thoughtful tone. 

Aziraphale was momentarily taken aback by the sage, articulate words that came so easily to the demon. He hadn’t known that Crowley had it in him. He was also temporarily arrested by the demon’s handsome features, and by his dark copper hair, sweeping so fetchingly away from his finely sculpted brow. 

He covered for his lapse by demanding “what do you want?” in as stuffy a tone as he could manage, as Crowley slunk around to his right shoulder. The demon was always on the move, rarely staying still for long. 

“Why ever would you insinuate that I might possibly want something?” he replied slyly. This little game of theirs was a familiar one at this point. Aziraphale would gently scold Crowley for being “bad” and Crowley would gently protest and put up a show of not having any ulterior motives. It was part of how they maintained plausible deniability, in case anyone was watching or listening. But over time, it had warped into something more than that. A sort of flirtatious dance. Leading to what? Nothing apparently. Just more dancing. Aziraphale couldn’t help but enjoy it, just a little bit. 

OK, maybe more than a little bit. 

“ _ You  _ are up to  _ no good _ ” he quipped, taking the next step in their well worn waltz of adversaries who were in fact friends, but who pretended to be adversaries nonetheless. 

“Obviously” Crowley drawled back. “You’re up to  _ good  _ I take it? Lots of  _ good deeds _ ?” He teased, slinking back around to Aziraphale’s left shoulder again. Why could the demon not stand in one place for more than five seconds at a stretch?  _ Probably something to do with being a large snake  _ thought Aziraphale ruefully. _ _

Aziraphale told Crowley of the blessing he had to perform up in Edinburgh, and how he had to ride a horse. 

“Uuuuccckkkkk. Hard on the buttocks, horses” growled Crowley. “Major design flaw if you ask me” Aziraphale couldn’t help but agree. 

It was then that Crowley suggested The Arrangement yet again. Aziraphale shouldn’t have been surprised. They’d enacted their agreement several centuries ago, after realizing that they were simply cancelling each other out with all their hard work. It gave both of them a much needed break, and to be perfectly honest, Aziraphale found it thrilling, helping the demon with minor temptations. Knowing that Crowley was helping him with minor blessings. He got a funny sort of kick out of it. 

He also got a kick out of pretending to be scandalized whenever Crowley brought it up. His resistance always made Crowley lean in a little closer, made his eyes light up a little brighter. 

“You cannot  _ actually _ be suggesting” Aziraphale said “…what I infer you’re implying” he made sure his tone was one of shocked disapproval, tinged just a little bit with titillation. He knew at this point how to turn Crowley’s gears. It was all part of their centuries long back and forth game. 

The demon leaned in a bit further and raised his well formed eyebrows above his small round shades. Aziraphale could see a sliver of saffron yellow glimmering just outside of the dark lenses. “Which is…?” he left the sentence hanging there.. Making Aziraphale say it out loud. Also part of the dance. 

“That only one of us goes to Edinburgh. Does both the blessing  _ and _ the tempting.” Aziraphale hoped he sounded dutifully scandalized by the idea. 

“Well we’ve done it before” Crowley drawled, looking away casually, as if discussing the weather. “Dozens of times now… _ The Arrangement _ ” His voice took on a teasing note, going up a few octaves. 

“ _ Don’t say that! _ ” Aziraphale was really and truly a bit scandalized now. Leave it to Crowley to mention their agreement blatantly, in public no less!  _ Touche _ . 

Crowley followed this up with a rather loud pronouncement of how neither of their sides cared what they did as long as the job got done.

Aziraphale, genuinely flustered now at Crowley’s boldness in a public place had responded “But if Hell finds out, they won’t just be angry. They’ll  _ destroy you _ ” He was surprised to find that the thought of Crowley’s destruction caused a twinge of dread to curl uncomfortably in the pit of his stomach. His tone when he said the words was a very vulnerable one of actual, tender concern. He was slipping. Losing the steps to the dance. Or maybe making up new ones?

“Nobody ever has to know” Crowley whispered, showing him another tantalizing glimpse of his yellow eyes over the brims of his smoked glasses. “Toss you for Edinburgh?”

Aziraphale lost the coin toss of course. It would teach him to play a game of chance against a demon. But in the end, with another tender look from the angel, Crowley had folded rather quickly and promised to increase attendance for Hamlet. So it had been a fair trade. Aziraphale happily munched on the grapes he’d purchased as Crowley sauntered his way towards the exit gate. Yes, this was quite a fulfilling exchange indeed. 

If he were honest with himself (he wasn’t though), the most rewarding part of their Arrangement was getting to spend more time around the demon. Gosh darn it, he  _ liked  _ Crowley, quite a bit. Though it was awkward to admit it, and though he was more than a little terrified of his side finding out how close their association had become.

Fraternizing with the enemy could bring down all manner of unpleasant punishments upon his head. Most likely he’d be recalled to heaven and have to abandon his beloved earth. 

_ And be forced to leave Crowley _ a secret portion of his brain whispered to him. 

Or maybe it would be worse than that? Would they have him decommissioned? Cast out of Heaven? Killed? He’d never known of another angel to befriend a demon before. It simply wasn’t done. Sure, the higher ups among both sides had meetings, but those were more like parlays with an enemy general, usually conducted by telephone, not meetings with a friend. Not evenings spent drinking and laughing together. And  _ definitely not  _ sharing the workload with your sworn adversary. 

Angels didn’t even have to specifically forbid friendly connections with demons It went unsaid, based solely on the fact that they loathed demons so completely. Might as well tell a rational, grown adult  _ not _ to thrust their hand into a burning fire. It was so very wrong that there weren’t even specific rules forbidding it, as they would seem hopelessly, pointlessly redundant. Demons were repulsive. They were disgusting. They had no morals. No sense of decency. And what was worse, they’d been cast away from God’s Love. They were less than worthless.

_ Not Crowley of course _ , Thought Aziraphale with a small smile. He was the opposite of repulsive. He was smooth and clean and handsome and… and… Well… he was quite pleasant to be around. 

So yes, Aziraphale was sure that the warm, fuzzy feelings he had for the demon would NOT be well received by his side. Just as he was sure Crowley’s friendly chats and the favors the demon did him as part of their Arrangement would get Crowley into a lot of trouble as well. He didn’t want Crowley to get hurt. So he held back with the affection he felt. 

The thought of not having Crowley around for company made him acutely uncomfortable. Crowley was the only other person he could talk to on earth who understood what it was like to be down here for so long.. To walk among the humans and to be intimately connected with their fascinating and tragically short lives. He was the only other person who knew what it was like to drink their wine, eat their food, listen to their poetry, watch their breathtaking cathedrals rise up slowly but inexorably from the ground. The only one else who saw them being born and growing old and dying in the same endless pattern, over and over, in what sometimes felt like rapid succession. 

Seeing and experiencing all that, changed a person (or a demon, or an angel). They had been similarly affected and similarly changed by the world in which they lived. It felt good to know that Crowley was always there… perhaps not always  _ close by _ all the time, but on the same earth as he was. It made eternity less lonely. And their visits, no matter how brief were something enjoyable to look forward to. 

_ They’re the thing I look forward to the most _ , thought Aziraphale warmly as he crushed another sweet grape between his teeth and settled in to watch the rest of the sparsely attended performance of Hamlet. 

  
  


____________________________________

During the two weeks and two days that Aziraphale was gone, off to Edinburgh to do a blessing and a tempting, Crowley tackled the idea of how to increase attendance for Sharkespeare’s boring Hamlet. Why had the angel gotten himself so attached to this gloomy, dull story about everyone dying? Yuck! Crowley himself much prefered happy stories. Especially those involving mistaken identities and pratt falls and happy endings. Hell was full of misery, and to be perfectly fair, earth wasn’t always a basket of roses either. What with plagues and murders and famines and so forth. Why did humans enjoy watching a depressed Denmarkian witnessing all of his friends and family, drown or stab each other to death? It defied comprehension!

But he was nothing if not fair minded. And Aziraphale had had such a look of sweet longing on his face when Shakespeare had complained that no one would come see his stupid play. It was hard for Crowley to resist when Aziraphale flashed those large, sparkling eyes at him. He pretended to be strong and cynical and not to care one drop, but on the inside, Aziraphale’s looks turned him into a puddle of goo. He hated that. And he was helpless against it. Satan forbid what would happen if Aziraphale ever figured out that Crowley struggled with telling the angel no.

During the first week, he’d set about drinking in bars and gushing about the play to anyone who’d listen. Especially the wealthy men who pretended to fall against him and who put hands on him when they were drunk. The kind of men with wives and children at home who enjoyed taking handsome young boys up to rented rooms when they went out at night. To  _ those _ men, Crowley draped himself over the bar and let his narrow hips and long, hose encased legs fall about in a lurid display, while he cooed over how simply  _ amazing _ this new Shakespeare play was, and how he just  _ adored  _ a man who patronized the theater. He then told them that he’d be there at the very next performance, hoping to find something  _ entertaining _ to do after the show. After that, when he had them drooling for him, he’d leave without paying out any real affection, chuckling to himself as the men looked after him with pained determination in their lust filled eyes. 

Next, he visited the markets and salons to do the same to wealthy, bored wives, making sure to cast an obscuring spell so no one noticed how solicitously he spoke to the women, or how his lips lingered wantonly on the backs of their hands, how he gently gripped them by their elbows. He introduced himself as a friend of their husbands and they instantly believed him. He made sure to tell them that only the most influential and stylish of women would be going to see Hamlet. He shot them glimpses of his bright yellow eyes over his smoked shades and gave them his devilish smile. The one that always made Aziraphale blush. It worked like a charm. The women sometimes almost fainted under the weight of extreme and rarely relieved sexual tension the moment his lips met the backs of their pale hands. 

After a week of this, he was fairly sure Hamlet would play to a packed house, but he was nothing if not thorough, and he didn’t want to leave attendance up to word of mouth alone. So he set about creating a demonic Spell of Wanting to make certain the word  _ really got out _ . 

This was accomplished by painstakingly drawing satanic sigils in chalk in an intricate pattern on the floor of his rented rooms. It took him six hours to get the archaic symbols just right. He had to be certain he could broadcast his Wanting out to as many people as possible, but he also needed to avoid detection by any demons who might be in the area. There were unlikely to be many, but he couldn’t chance being caught doing an elaborate, over the top favor for an angel. 

_ But my wouldn’t Aziraphale be surprised when he saw how very good Crowley was at tempting the masses of London? _

Once he had effectively painted himself into the center of the center of the intricate chalk pattern, he lit the four black candles he’d set at points to the north, south, east and west, and sat down cross legged among them, dead center in the completed chalk mandala. He closed his eyes and cleared his mind, intending to think about the play so as to broadcast his desire for it to be a success out into the air of London. 

A Spell of Wanting worked very well if you were dedicated and were able to put enough oomph into projecting the thing you desired. The sigils would pick up that desire and beam it out into the surrounding area, in all directions and people would find themselves sharing your desire to do the thing you wanted. It wasn’t a full on compelling. It didn’t necessarily force people to do anything they didn’t want to do. But it would put the urge to see some live theater about a particularly gloomy subject into their heads, and there would be Hamlet, ready to oblige. 

He took a deep breath and tried to concentrate on the stupid play. After fifteen minutes of trying however he realized he had a problem. He didn’t like Hamlet at all. The play was dull and depressing and so it was very hard to summon up enough desire to make the spell work. He  _ did  _ however like Aziraphale, and Aziraphale loved Hamlet, so maybe he could simply think of Aziaphale’s joy over the play and it would work by proxy? It was worth a try. 

He redirected his thoughts, away from the play itself, and towards Aziraphale. How happy the angel would be when he saw a packed house for the next performance. The bright smile the angel would show him as he looked out over the crowds of people who’d come to see Hamlet. And Aziraphale had a uniquely lovely smile didn’t he? Crowley let an image of the angel’s smiling face drift before his mind’s eye. Aziraphale’s large, hazel eyes gleaming, his white teeth flashing, his face suffused with happiness as he turned to thank Crowley, in front of rows and rows of playgoers. He was so very handsome wasn’t he? Not that Crowley had overly noticed this before. Admiring the beauty of angels wasn’t exactly part of his job description was it? 

But Aziraphale  _ was _ quite handsome really. No denying a simple fact. Crowley felt a small smile creep its way across his face as he continued envisioning a beaming, excited Aziraphale, clapping his hands and wiggling his shoulders a bit with happiness when he saw how completely and successfully Crowley had granted his wish. 

He felt his heart swell strangely at the thought of fulfilling Aziraphale’s needs. Of making him happy. He’d told himself this whole time that his tireless efforts to increase attendance for the play had been sort of a one-upmanship game. A way to show Aziraphale just how good he, Crowley was at his job, but it had swiftly morphed into something else, something new? Or maybe something that had been there for quite some time. A desire to make Aziraphale  _ himself _ happy. Not from a sense of competition, but from a real and pure desire to please the angel. 

His thoughts strayed again to Aziraphale’s happy face, his well formed hands, his broad shoulders. The way his voice sounded a bit musical when Crowley made him laugh. How incandescently happy he’d be when he saw that The Globe Theater was packed to overflowing upon returning from Scotland. 

Absently, his mind strayed to thoughts of the angel’s soft lips. They were quite nicely shaped weren't they? He wondered if Aziraphale had ever kissed anyone. Unlikely. It wasn't the sort of things angels did was it? unbidden, his mind then proposed the question of what it might feel like if Crowley himself kissed Aziraphale. And then his thoughts turned to the angel's thick arms and how they might feel wrapped around Crowley’s slender waist. He thought of Aziraphale’s crazy, white-blond hair and how just maybe, he might like to run his hands through it. He was certain it was silky soft and would feel amazing against his fingers. 

A sudden pang of lust clenched tightly in his lower abdomen and set his nether regions to throbbing almost painfully, and he gasped out loud at the shock of it.  _ Oh my!  _ That had been unexpected. Where had these libidinous urges come from? He struggled to redirect his thoughts to Aziraphale’s happiness about the play. It worked. 

Mostly it worked. 

It didn’t work at all really.

Before he knew it, his thoughts had strayed again to how the sunlight in the Globe Theater, how it had looked playing off the angel’s ridiculous hair. How he’d seen Aziraphale’s gaze gently drop to Crowley’s mouth as he’d asked him, wordlessly, with his luminous hazel eyes to help increase attendance for the play. It was actually quite difficult to maintain his focus on Hamlet as thoughts of kissing Aziraphale, holding Aziraphale, of Aziraphale maybe gasping beneath him as he.... Crowley felt his tight hose growing even tighter and his breath was coming a bit faster. He was also absently aware that the room had grown brighter outside of his closed eyelids. 

Taking a deep, centering breath and banishing thoughts of Aziraphale, naked and willing and making pleasing noises, he decided that he’d sent enough positive energy about the play out into the London streets to ensure a high rate of attendance for Hamlet, and opened his eyes. He was shocked to see that the chalk sigels were glowing, blindingly white. A few closest to him had even burst into flames. 

With an alarmed yelp, he leaped to his feet and stomped out the flaming spots among the chalk symbols. With a snap of his fingers, he ended the spell and began frantically scuffing out the sigil marks with his feet. He hoped fervently that his spell, having gone a tad bit out of control, hadn’t alerted Hastur or Ligur or any other demons to his feelings or his current location. It would not be good  _ at all  _ for them to find him, rock hard and panting like a horny teenager with thoughts of his sworn enemy dancing in his head. 

And what of those thoughts? He knew he liked Aziraphale. Aziraphale was insanely likable. Anyone who disliked the angel was either a demon (himself excluded) or an asshole (Gabriel leaped to mind). People fell in love with him upon sight. All the time. But he and the angel were enemies. Well, not enemies  _ exactly.  _ More like fond adversaries. Maybe even  _ friends _ ? Aziraphale would likely be quite alarmed to know that Crowley had become so inflamed with passion at the mere thought of kissing the angel. He’d have to keep that carefully under wraps and hope that it was a one time thing. 

Upon reflection, his sudden, lustful fantasies were more than a little concerning. He continued scuffing out the last remnants of the chalk sigils, and tried fervently to will his erection to go away. 

Not only was Hamlet an astounding success (very much to Aziraphale’s incandescent happiness), but there were quite a larger than average number of births of new babies roughly 9 months after Crowley cast his spell. It seemed more than just desire to see the play had made its way into the air above London that night...


	5. Chapter 5

It was 1862 and Aziraphale hastened to meet Crowley at the 2nd Alternative Rendezvous Point in St. James’ Park. The demon hadn’t said anything about why they needed to meet, but Aziraphale assumed it had something to do with having drinks in a tavern somewhere, and so he put an extra bounce in his step. He hadn’t seen Crowley in several months, and even though they met more often as the centuries crept by, the time between meetings was starting to feel dismayingly less and less comfortable. Aziraphale had started to miss Crowley when he wasn’t around. 

This was concerning. It spoke of things that Aziraphale wasn’t comfortable admitting to himself. That he might maybe  _ need  _ Crowley a little bit. That he might be somewhat  _ dependent _ on Crowley for his happiness. This wasn’t good. But it was apparently impossible to reverse. 

He’d tried distracting himself with first editions and new restaurants and immersing himself in his work. This only resulted in wishing the demon was sitting across from him at those restaurants, and in losing his place in his book on lonely nights when he saw Crowley’s face reflected in between the yellowed pages of his books. His thoughts, like a lost child, always strayed back to Crowley. To his bright yellow eyes and his sharp shoulders. His sly smiles and soft lips. There it was again! The urge to get closer.. To maybe take their relationship farther somehow that couldn’t bare to be acknowledged, even to Aziraphale, outside of very secret imaginings,  _ very _ late at night. 

Aziraphale shook his head as he walked towards the water to rid himself of silly fantasies involving embraces and stolen kisses that were not supposed to ever come to pass. Kisses that were  _ wrong  _ to want. It didn’t help matters when he caught sight of Crowley, looking tall and slender and handsome in his top hat and black stovepipe jacket, standing by the water.

Aziraphale carefully arranged his features to affect a neutral mask as he slowly walked up to stand beside Crowley. They had to be far less friendly and gregarious when not in a pub or a tavern somewhere, or in one of their own domiciles. Anyone could see them out here, and so in public, it was all business. No laughs or hearty slaps on the back. No leaning against each other for support when they drank too much, and definitely no flirtatious glances over the top of wine glasses. Definitely NOT.

In an attempt to look extra casual, Aziraphale took off his hat, where he’d stashed a crumbled scone from his breakfast and started to pitch them out at the ducks on the water. 

“Look, I’ve been thinking” Crowley began without preamble. “What if it all goes wrong?” He looked pained, which was unusual for him. “I need a favor” he continued. 

“We already have the Arrangement Crowley.”

“This is something else.” Crowley sounded uncharacteristically worried. “If it all goes wrong” he continued. “I want insurance”

This was new. Crowley always pretended at being more calm and positive when it came to talk of their connection. It was Aziraphale who did the panicking and the worrying and the constant shoring up of boundaries, while Crowley usually kicked his way through boundaries with the bare minimum of attention paid to helping them avoid detection. He was always the cocky, self assured one. The tremor of fear in his voice unnerved Aziraphale. 

He wondered what had changed. 

Instead of getting into details he simply asked Crowley what he needed.

“I wrote it down” Crowley mumbled, passing him a slip of paper and then babbling on about walls and ducks having ears. Aziraphale barely heard him though, because he saw the words “Holy Water” scribbled on the paper in spidery black ink and he felt his blood go cold. “Out of the question!” he snapped, pushing the offending scrap of paper back into Crowley’s black gloved hand. 

“Why not?” Crowley, intent, serious. Not like his usual self

“It would destroy you!” Aziraphale could hear his voice raising and he didn’t want to cause a scene,  _ but really now _ . Crowley was scaring him. “I’m not bringing you a suicide pill Crowley”. Holy water? HOLY WATER? It spelled instant death for demons. Had Crowley somehow decided to do himself in??

“That’s not what I want it for” The demon hastily tried to placate Aziraphale, who was gazing fiercely at him, “It’s just for insurance” he hissed back, pushing the note back into Aziraphale’s hand. 

_ Insurance _ . Of course. He wanted to be able to take out any demons that came for him because of… well because of their… association. Did the demon think he hadn’t worried about this for millennia now too? Did Crowley think he was somehow alone in his fears for his safety? How would handing over a deadly substance to his dearest friend help anyone if Crowley slipped and fell or spilled it and accidentally eradicated himself, instead of taking out Hastur or Ligur? 

“I’m not an  _ idiot Crowley _ ” He couldn’t help the panic he felt from leaking into his voice. “Do you know what trouble I’d be in if they knew I’d been…  _ Fraternizing!”  _ he spat the word out vehemently to try and make his point. Which was what? 

_ I’m scared too. But I wouldn’t go to such lengths to protect myself if it meant my own possible accidental death. And what if they notice that I’ve procured the stuff and come round asking questions? And then what if you slip and fall? Or there’s deadly condensation?  _ All the ways this plan of Crowley’s could go wrong bloomed inside his head like ink in a glass of water, making his heart race and his stomach lurch. 

A split second later, he realized that he might have misspoken. Crowley’s face went icy cold and he spat back “ _ Fraternizing _ ?” his voice an angry hiss. 

“Or whatever you wish to call it” blustered Aziraphale, really in too deep in this row to backpedal. “I do not think there is any point in discussing it further” He used his best officious angel voice to try and shut down the conversation, but Crowley wasn’t having it. He wanted to get one more barb in. 

“I have plenty of other people to  _ fraternize _ with angel.”

Aziraphale felt as if he’d been slapped. Perhaps Crowley was telling the truth, and he was out galavanting with humans, or other demons on the nights he didn’t spend with Aziraphale. He felt a surge of jealousy rise up in a sickening wave at the thought of Crowley kissing someone else. Holding someone else. Even though he’d never actually kissed or held Aziraphale. “Of course you do!” he spat back. 

“I don’t need you” Crowley growled at him. 

_ Well, if THAT’S how we’re going to play it  _ “And the feeling is mutual! Obviously!” Aziraphale retorted angrily. He was filled up with a horrible mix of anger and hurt. He turned on his heel and strode swiftly away from Crowley, after hurling the scrap of paper into the water, startling several curious ducks who’d swum closer to assess what the hubbub was about, and to ascertain if it involved the throwing of more crumbs. 

_ How dare Crowley terrify me this way with such a request? How dare he act as if it were a small thing, instead of the very, VERY big thing it actually is.  _

_ How dare he say he doesn’t need me?  _ Azirapahle felt tears sting the corners of his eyes as he marched resolutely away from the water and from Crowley. 

_________________________________________

Crowley was angrier than he’d been in a long, long time. Aziraphale’s face when he’d spat out the word “fraternizing” had been full of disgust. He had been so dismissive of a relationship that Crowley though had been developing into something deeper and more meaningful than just friendly adversaries. At least he’d hoped it had been. Now he was certain that the feelings he felt were all one sided. Aziraphale couldn’t possibly share his affections and say something like that? Could he? 

And now he was growing sad. He hated being sad, far more than being angry. Anger was productive and forceful and hot and clean. Sadness was confusing and vulnerable and messy. Demons shouldn’t be sad. 

_ Demons also shouldn’t feel this way about angels  _ supplied his mind unhelpfully. 

Crowley growled as he stalked away from the park in the opposite direction Aziraphale had gone, struggling to pull his anger back up and around him like a cloak. It was a lovely, late summer afternoon, the sunlight glinting off the lake, and all the people out in their Sunday evening finery, and he didn’t care. He snapped his fingers angrily and several pairs of ladies shoes lost a heel. He snapped his fingers again and a child’s apple fell out of his grubby little hand and rolled into the lake, with a wet plunk, accompanied by a satisfying wail of protest. 

_ There. That’s better. Can’t be slipping as a demon, having all these mushy feelings for the opposition.  _

It was more than mushy feelings though. More than affection. He’d read about romantic love in a few of the books Aziraphale had managed to pushed on him over the years, and he’d seen displays of it everywhere. Humanity was obsessed with it. Young men, bringing flowers to their love’s window and singing songs. Or worse, threatening to run their rivals through with swords for the right to take a fair lady’s hand. Women throwing themselves off of tall buildings and into lakes when told they couldn’t marry the one they loved. So over dramatic.

Not at all like asking for holy water so that he could melt the faces off his fellow demons when they came to arrest him for the crime of falling in love with the opposition. Nothing at all dramatic about  _ that _ . 

It had in fact been humanity’s sense of drama that had kept him from realizing the truth about his feelings for Aziraphale for so many years. They did a lot of sighing and fainting and proclaiming and self sacrifice didn’t they? Crowley wasn’t like them at all. He made fun of Aziraphale whenever he could. And he didn’t ever sigh or swoon like a fainting lady did he? He snarked. He grumbled. He pushed and mocked. He didn’t sigh. He didn’t yearn. At least not publicly. 

But then a memory came to him, unbidden of that time in 1793 when Aziraphale had gotten himself thrown in the Bastille for his ridiculous craving for crepes. How Crowley had sensed his dismay from miles off, and had been there in a flash, transporting himself into that jail cell so fast he’d been dizzy and he’d had to lean (casually he hoped) against that stone outcropping so as not to fall over. He couldn’t have come to the angel’s aid any faster if he’d tried. And oh how ridiculously pleased he’d been when Aziraphale had whirled around to greet him, face full of joy and gasping Crowley’s name. 

He remembered the great lengths he’d gone to to increase attendance for Hamlet, and the intense flush of desire he’d felt when contemplating Aziraphale’s soft lips. 

He remembered all the times the angel had leaned against him when they were drunk. The warmth of his body leaching through his many layers and into Crowley’s rib-skinny side. And how extremely good those random touches always felt to him. 

There was no point in denying it. He’d fallen quite deeply in love. And this was the driving force behind why he’d asked for the holy water. Before he recognized the true nature of his feelings for Aziraphale, it had been easier to imagine being forced to leave him. Or of maybe having to fight him in the Great Apocalypse that loomed somewhere in the distant future. But as he’d gotten to know the angel better and better, as he’d seen his sense of humor and his determination and his enchanting love of all things hedonistic, he’d realized that he could never leave Aziraphale. 

Not for good. Not forever. The very thought made him nauseous with dread, made his heart feel like it was ripping in half. He wouldn’t survive being pulled back to Hell, or Satan forbid, if Aziraphale were harmed because of their connection. It was with great surprise that he realized, one day, probably a couple of hundred years ago, that he would rather die than be separated from the angel for good. It was hard enough when they were apart for a few decades. Losing Aziraphale completely would surely kill him. He knew that now.

And so he’d reached out, hoping beyond hope that his dear friend, his love would concede to provide him with some security. Some hope that he wouldn’t be defenseless if his side came calling. And he’d been rejected. Cruelly. Coldly. It hurt in ways that Crowley hadn’t felt since his fall. 

He needed to shut out all the pain and anger and sadness. So he went home to his lush flat, crawled into his giant, four poster bed, pulled the covers up over himself (being careful to put a few satanic spells of Obscuring around the flat so that he wouldn’t be detected in his sleep) and passed out for 70 years. 


	6. Chapter 6

Aziraphale stared in shock as Crowley hopped and danced his way down the aisle of the church, towards where the angel stood, with a gun pointed in his face, near the three Nazi agents by the alter. 

He didn’t know which emotion was stronger. Joy at seeing Crowley again after 70 years of zero contact, or confusion over why he was dancing about like a broken marionette. There was also a flood of relief at knowing that the demon was OK. That he hadn’t gone off and found holy water by himself and done anything rash. 

Aziraphale struggled to keep his face neutral as Crowley hopped closer, gasping and grunting in what sounded like pain.

“Consecrated ground” He explained through gritted teeth. “Like being on a beach in bare feet!”

OH  _ of course _ . Of course. Aziraphale hadn’t realized. He was flooded with sudden affection and gratitude at the thought that Crowley would face scorched feet in order to see if he was alright. 

As it turned out, the demon had done more than come to find out if he was alright. He’d redirected the German bomber planes overhead to drop an SC 250 right onto the church. After not-so-subtly instructing Aziraphale to save them both with a “real miracle” as he raised his eyebrows suggestively above his dark shades. 

And that was how they’d both ended up, standing awkwardly among the flaming rubble of what had been a church. Aziraphale had swiftly shielded himself and Crowley from the blast of flesh melting heat that had reduced the church (and the Nazis) to charred fragments. 

Crowley stood, casual as anything, cleaning the church dust off his dark shades with a soft cloth, looking for all the world like he was waiting for a table at a restaurant, instead of in the wreckage of a bombed out building.. 

There were so many things Aziraphale wanted to say. Chiefly among them was  _ Where were you?! How could you leave me alone for so long after bringing up such a terrifying subject as wanting to procure holy water for yourself?!  _

_ Do you have any idea how lonely and frightened I was without you?! _

But all he found the courage to say was “That was very kind of you”

“Shut up” Crowley responded predictably, as he placed his dark shades back on his face, obscuring pretty yellow eyes that Aziraphale wished he could look at just a bit longer. He’d missed Crowley’s face so very much.

“Well it was” Aziraphale insisted. “No paperwork for a start”. But then he remembered the books. “Oh the books!” he exclaimed in anguish. “I forgot  _ all _ the books!” He’d cared for and protected his precious books of prophecy for centuries, and now they were all gone, burnt to ashes. 

He barely noticed Crowley stepping carefully over to a pile of rubble near Aziraphale and yanking the leather bag free from an eerily disembodied Nazi hand that stuck up from a tangle of rock and metal. And then he was being passed the bag of books. 

His fingers brushed warmly against Crowley’s as he took the bag from the demon’s grasp, a feeling of joyful awe blossoming inside his chest. “Little demonic miracle of my own” Crowley drawled, adding “Lift home?” as he sauntered casually past Aziraphale and away. He was walking towards a very elaborate, shiny, black car that was parked a safe distance down the street, but Aziraphale barely heard him. 

He looked down unbelievingly at the bag of books clutched in his hand, then back up at Crowley where the demon was still walking towards his automobile. 

_ Oh.  _ It was all coming together now. His fear and anguish when he couldn’t reach Crowley after their fight by the lake. The painful pull in his heart whenever he thought of something possibly having happened to the demon in his absence. The pure joy he felt anytime Crowley came around. It was all fitting together like the pieces to a very simple puzzle, only the big picture was so very big, was something Aziraphale had never seen before and so he had been fitting the pieces together blindly. Without a guide. He hadn’t stepped far enough back until now to see what the puzzle picture looked like when all the pieces fit. 

The bag of books had been the final piece. And the picture it revealed was both terrifying and thrilling to Aziraphale. All those centuries of joy and laughter and yearning and pining for more time, more attention, more connection. It all made sense now. The way the sight of Crowley’s startling yellow eyes made his knees weak. The way even the slightest casual touch of Crowley’s hand to his shoulder or the nudge of Crowley’s elbow against his side made him tingle with anticipation. 

_ He was in love with Crowley _ . He was in love with the demon. And it wasn’t just a passing infatuation. It was a deep, abiding, helpless love. One that made him weak and confused and made it very hard to focus when the demon was around. Oh dear lord. Oh  _ dear lord _ . What was he to do now? 

“Are you coming angel? Or would you rather miracle your way home?” The demon had reached his vehicle and stood, the door open, with one foot inside and one patent leather shoe still on the street, turning towards Aziraphale. 

“Oh! Right! Yes!” Aziraphale snapped himself out of the trance he’d fallen into and hurried over to the auto. 

“What’s this then?” he asked, more breathless than he needed to be for the short walk over to Crowley. “Is this new?”

“Yes!” Crowley’s smile was like the sun. His happiness in talking about his automobile infectious. “Isn’t she beautiful? It’s a Bentley. The 1930 luxury model! I offered the first owner a ridiculous amount of money for her. Satan bless humanity and their enginuity for making my precious darling Bentley for me!” He ran a sensuous hand over the roof of the car, as if he wanted to maybe make love to it. 

Aziraphale gulped. 

“Get in angel! I’ll show you what this baby can really do!”

“Oh, well.. Alright then.” Aziraphale gingerly clambered into the passenger seat and sat, still slightly stunned by this evening’s revelation, clutching his bag of books to his chest. The car smelled like Crowley on the inside and it was highly distracting. 

Crowley gunned the engine and they took off, Aziraphale yelping in surprise and grasping at the ceiling of the Bentley for support as they sped off into the night. 

Soon they were pulling up in front of Aziraphale’s bookshop and the angel could relax a bit, being that he no longer had to fear for both of their lives. Crowley drove like he did everything. Exuberantly and with little care for others’ concerns or safety.

The demon turned the car off and the two of them found themselves sitting in a suddenly awkward silence. 

“Care to come in for a drink?” Asked Aziraphale, a nervous tremor making its way into his voice, despite his best efforts to sound casual. 

“I thought you’d never ask!” Crowley veritably leapt out of the Bently and rushed over to open the door for Aziraphale, which was a good thing as the angel was struggling to find the handle. 

They went to the back of Aziaphale’s shop where the angel had a small kerosene lantern. Rations and lighting restrictions were tight and it wouldn’t do for neighbors to see the shop ablaze while they drank wine they should not have been able to afford. 

He poured a glass of red for Crowley and then one for himself and settled in on one side of his well worn, 90 year old sofa. Crowley sat on the other end, a few feet away. They drank in silence for a few minutes, listening to the ghostly sounds of air raid sirens and the distant booming of bombs dropping across London. They had nothing to fear themselves. Aziraphale had put quite a lot of time and energy into making sure his bookshop was heavily warded against harm. But it was still dismaying to hear the distant screams of displaced humans, searching for lost loved ones, or crying out in pain. Another bloody war. 

Aziraphale finally gathered up the courage to ask

“Where have you been Crowley?” his voice shook only a little bit and he gripped the stem of his wine glass tighter. 

Crowley sighed and took his stylish black fedora and his glasses off, setting them carefully on a side table at his elbow. “To be perfectly honest angel, I was asleep”

“You were  _ what?! _ ” Aziraphale couldn’t help but yell. He was shocked and angered. “You were  _ asleep _ ?” he continued without giving Crowley the chance to respond. “And all this time I thought… I thought… “ he sputtered to a stop, staring at Crowley with indignation, filled with conflicting emotions. Incredulity. Anger. Relief.

“Well… yeah. I took a…nap” Crowley finished lamely. “I was a bit shook up after that fight we had by the lake and I just needed to rest for a while. 

“It was  _ over seventy years _ Crowley! I thought you might be… “ He found he was suddenly too choked with emotion to finish the sentence. 

Crowley peered at him suspiciously, eyes intent. “You thought I was what angel? What did you think?”

“I… I…. thought you were… dead” Aziraphale was mortified to hear a sob escape with the last word. He slapped a hand over his mouth to keep his emotions contained, only to feel a tear make its way out of the corner of his eye and course hotly down his cheek. The memory of his fear and anguish when he couldn’t find Crowley. His flat had been locked up tight and Aziraphale had not been able to sense the demon inside its walls. He had searched the neighborhood and gone to all of their rendezvous points over and over, looking, hoping… It had been dreadful. 

“Hey now angel. Don’t be like that” Crowley’s words might have been dismissive, but his tone was oh so soft and gentle. He inched his way closer on the sofa and placed a warm hand on Aziraphale’s shoulder. It did the angel in, and Aziraphale started to sob into his hands. 

Crowley was suddenly much closer, pressed up against his side with his long, thin arms wrapped around Aziraphale’s shoulders. “There there now” he said awkwardly, unused to soothing and placating a distraught person. “Don’t cry angel. I’m here now. I’m OK. Look. Same old me. Not dead at all. Alive and kicking!” 

Aziraphale nodded at the demon’s words but it didn’t stop his sobs. He forgot to keep himself distant in his distress and turned in Crowley’s arms and embraced the demon, wrapping his arms around the Crowley’s slender waist and pulling him in tight. He continued sobbing against crowley’s black clad shoulder as he felt the demon tentatively, and then enthusiastically return the hug. It felt so, so good to be wrapped up in Crowley’s arms. To feel Crowley’s slim frame against his chest, safe and sound and not completely, utterly destroyed. Slowly but surely, he felt his sobs slow and cease. 

He didn’t break the embrace though, staying in Crowley’s arms for as long as he dared.

From within the haze of sadness and relief, he had the presence of mind to be surprised at how quickly his fading grief turned to desire. He could feel the warmth between their bodies and could smell Crowley’s cologne, and beneath that, his smoky burnt leaves scent and it was doing things to Aziraphale’s body. Making his pulse race and setting butterflies to flitting about in his stomach, and places further south were reacting as well. 

_ Oh no _ .  _ That wouldn’t do _

He pulled away slowly, before he could do something truly embarrassing, and the two of them sat awkwardly together, Crowley’s arm still slung about his shoulders. It felt amazing. It felt as if they could always just do this, reach for affection from one another whenever they wanted. As if this were  _ normal  _ and  _ right,  _ even though that was hardly the case. Crowley fished a handkerchief out of his top pocket and passed it to Aziraphale and the angel gratefully dabbed at his eyes and blew his nose. He miracled the cloth clean before handing it back to Crowley “Thank you my dear” he mumbled. 

“S’alright angel” Crowley mumbled back, slowly withdrawing his arm, but keeping his hand on the angel’s back, moving it in small, reassuring circles. “I’m sorry. Really I am. For me, the rest of the century passed pretty quickly, what with me being unconscious and all. I don’t even think I dreamed.. I never stopped to think...”

“It’s alright Crowley” Aziraphale snuffled, ridiculously mollified by the demon’s apology. “You didn’t know.”

“I’ll be more careful in the future.” Crowley promised. “I can’t go letting my arch nemesis tip the scales while I’m napping can I?”

Aziraphale smiled and reached again for his wine glass, where he’d put it down on a side table. He took a bolstering sip. “Why don’t you tell me more about your new girlfriend” he asked with a teasing smile, hoping to drag the conversation away from his emotional weaknesses. 

It worked like a charm.

“Oh! She’s just the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in all my life!” Crowley exclaimed with abject happiness, his eyes lit up like yellow traffic lights, his smile broad and pointy. “She’s got an 8 liter engine and calf’s leather seats and she purrs like a kitten”

He went on for another hour about his favorite thing in all the world, detailing the inner workings of the engine and the chassis design. Aziraphale started to actually feel a small twinge of jealousy, but he dismissed it. Well worth it to know his dear Crowley was alive and whole and happy. And Crowley did care for him didn’t he? He’d consoled him quite sweetly when Aziraphale had broken down, shamefully over his fear for the demon’s safety. Aziraphale didn’t mind if it was just as a companion. That was all he needed. 

At least that’s what he told himself. 


	7. Chapter 7

It was 1958 and Aziraphale was called Upstairs for a check in meeting with Gabriel. He hated these meetings, probably as much as Crowley hated his with Hastur and Ligur, but they had to be done, especially if he wanted to keep up appearances. 

He reached the top of the escalator and stepped off onto the polished marble floor of Heaven’s main offices and approached the front desk. It was strange how the hundred feet high windows that let in eatherial light, how the marble buttresses and gleaming walls no longer held any sort of wonder or awe for Aziraphale now. They had once reduced him to tears with their beauty, now though, it just felt like the corporate office it so clearly was. Stuffy, officious, dull. 

The front desk was currently being attended by a bored looking angel, who was reading a magazine (“Celestial Monthly”). She looked up as he approached and plastered a very fake smile onto her face. “Hello Aziraphale. You’ll have to wait a minute. Gabe’s busy.” 

_ Gabe. Heaven help us  _ “Alright then.” Aziraphale returned her fake smile with a genuine if nervous one. He’d forgotten her name, Misrathel? Astorel? But he remembered her being passably kind to him when he’d come in for prior meetings. 

He sat himself on the edge of a pristine white sofa in the waiting room and…waited. He hoped it wouldn’t take long, as he had plans to meet Crowley for a movie (Bell, Book and Candle had looked appropriately sweet and harmless, but with enough dark humor to keep Crowley partly entertained), and he didn’t want to be late. Aziraphale hated the waiting part of these meetings, and Gabriel often made him wait. He had a good idea it was because the archangel wanted to make him as nervous as possible so that he’d be pliable and easily intimidated for their check in meetings, and it was certainly a successful tactic if this were the case. 

Although, to be fair, Aziraphale was the one consistently fraternizing with a demon and hiding it from his superiors, so if he’d been a good angel, perhaps the waiting wouldn’t have had this effect. 

He knew he was  _ not _ a good angel. Good angel’s didn’t spend half of their free time wondering what it would be like to kiss a demon. Good angels didn’t help said demon perform temptations, or joke about God’s Ineffable Plan while drinking too much wine with said demon. 

And really, even if you kept Crowley out of the equation, Aziraphale wasn’t being particularly angelic. He hoarded books. He routinely ate at fine restaurants. He collected wines and indulged in pastries and had 48 different tins of fancy tea in his bookshop cupboards. He was an abject hedonist the likes of which easily put Crowley to shame. By comparison, the demon enjoyed his wine and tempting people into doing sinful things, but he himself was not nearly as indulgent as Aziraphale. 

Aziraphale lived under the weight of guilt and shame over not being a “good angel” a lot of the time. Ironically, the only things that made those feelings of guilt recede into the background of his mind were reading, eating, and time spent with Crowley (sometimes all three concurrently). Heaven was always there, hung like a shoe ready to drop, a dagger over his head, ready to invade his thoughts with anxiety in his spare moments. He knew Crowley felt similarly about his required connection to Hell. The demon complained bitterly at times about how dank and dull and filthy and simply  _ uninspired _ it was Downstairs. Aziraphale could understand. Crowley was glamorous. He was fun. He took risks and told jokes and wore fancy (very tight) clothing and loved new experiences. According to him, the other demons were all wet blankets. He was frankly wasted on Hell. 

Aziraphale felt his heart swell at these thoughts of Crowley, and felt a soft smile play across his face. Since the church, he’d allowed thoughts of his love for Crowley to surface more often. He wasn’t sure if he had the energy or the desire to push them down any longer. 

“Aziraphale? Principality?” The bored angel had called his name. He swiftly wiped the lovesick smile off of his face and hurried to the door of Gabriel’s office. 

“Hello there pal” Gabriel greeted him with a cardboard smile from behind his vast desk. His hair was perfect. His suit was immaculate and pale blue-gray. 

“Hello sir” Aziraphale replied, taking a seat in the chair opposite Gabriel, clutching his hands nervously in his lap. “How are you today?”

“Fine… fine” muttered Gabriel as he shuffled through some papers on his desk. “I brought you in today to talk about an issue I’ve noticed cropping up lately with your mission”

Aziraphale felt fingers of cold fear play down the back of his neck. “Yes sir? What would that be?” he asked in a voice he struggled to keep casual. 

“It’s about the demon, Crowley?” Gabriel was clearly pretending at struggling to remember Crowley’s name, which was ridiculous, because everyone on both sides were very familiar with the two field agents they’d placed on earth to watch after its celestial/demonic development. Aziraphale gulped.

“Yes sir… what about him?”  _ just act casual _

“Well Aziraphale, we noticed that your assignments often coincide with his, and that the two of you have been seen socializing now and again…”

_ Oh dear. Oh NO _ “Well sir, one can’t very well keep an eye on the opposition from a continent away can one?” Aziraphale offered lamely, his heart suddenly going a mile a minute. 

“True, true” Remarked Gabriel, his handsome brow furrowed in what looked like deep thought. “My question is though, what is it that you’ve learned about him over the years? Any insights into what the Other Side is planning?”

“Oh! Yes! I’ve learned quite a lot actually. That he was behind the starting of the Reign of Terror. That he had a hand in spreading the Black Plague. He was quite influential in that whole business with World Wa-”

“Yes, yes, we know all about that” Gabriel said dismissively

“You do?” Asked Aziraphale

“Yes, that’s been in your reports”

“Oh.. then what do you-”

Gabriel cut Aziraphale off again (something he did with regularity during these little chats) “What we’d like to know my friend is what Hell is planning to do in the Great Apocalypse that’s coming up.”

“Oh…” Aziraphale was uncertain how to respond to that. He and Crowley actively avoided bringing up the “A word” as it was depressing and tended to put a damper on an evening of drinking. “I, I well, I believe they intend to deliver the antiChrist child at some point in the next few decades.”

“Old news” Drawled Gabriel impatiently. “Look Aziraphale. We need real intel. And we need you to be extra careful. Wouldn’t want you getting too”... dramatic pause.. “ _ Close _ to the demon now would we?” 

Aziraphale nodded miserably.  _ No.. not too close. Just maybe holding him in my arms while I cry every once in a while _

“He’s dangerous Aziraphale. Dangerous and untrustworthy, and if you listen too much to the lies he tells you, well… it won’t end well for you” 

_ Was that a threat? _ “Yes sir” Aziraphale mumbled, eyes downcast.  _ How much does the archangel know? _

“So I want you to keep up your surveillance, but just keep in mind that we need some better info, and that any sort of association beyond spying on the demon will not bode well for anyone involved. Is that clear?” Gabriel had that intimidating, intent look on his face, where his eyes glowed a dark violet color and his mouth was set in a grim line. That face always made Aziraphale’s stomach drop into his shoes.

“Yes sir. Very clear” 

“Alright then pal, that’s all. Have a great day!” Another fake smile and Aziraphale was ushered out of the office. He was dismayed to realize that his knees were shaking as he walked towards the escalator. 

He was certain that Gabriel couldn’t know much about he and Crowley’s private acquaintance. If he knew they’d been drinking and laughing and casually touching one another with barely hidden affection in drunken comradery well into the wee hours of the morning, it was unlikely that he’d be receiving just a stern talking to. Both he and Crowley had wards and protections set up around their living spaces. But apparently, the dinners and the meetings in taverns were starting to show up on Gabriel’s radar. This was not good. 

_________________________

Still, Aziraphale hurried to meet Crowley down at the Duke of York’s Picture House in Brighton for the 7pm showing of Bell Book and Candle. He quickly waved a hand and snapped an obscuring spell into place about the theater when he arrived, via minor miracle. He’d have to be more careful from now on. 

Crowley was waiting for him inside the theater, in a seat far too close to the screen for Aziraphale’s liking, a striped paper bag of buttered popcorn in his lap and a broad smile on his face. “Hey there angel!” he hissed as Aziraphale rushed to sit next to him. “I got you a snack” Despite Aziraphale’s worry, he gratefully accepted the bag of popcorn Crowley thrust into his hands and began tossing crisp, fluffy kernels of it into his mouth as he spoke. 

“Just got back from” *crunch* “a meeting with the head office” *crunch* he whispered to Crowley, leaning in close enough to smell the demon’s seductive cologne.

“Is that so? What happened? Gabriel blow a gasket on you? And  _ must you  _ eat popcorn  _ directly  _ into my ear angel?” Crowley whispered back, reaching to the floor to grab a soda pop he had stashed there and taking a sip. He thoughtfully put the bottle on the arm rest between them so that Aziraphale could have some if he wanted.

“Not exactly” *crunch* *crunch* Aziraphale leaned back a bit so that he wasn’t chewing too close to Crowley’s ear “But he  _ did  _ mention you, and how we’ve been spotted spending too much time together”

Crowley immediately whipped around in his seat to assess the back of the theater for spies. 

“Don’t worry dear” *crunch* “I’ve put an obscuring spell on the theater, no one will see us here” *crunch*, He offered the bag to Crowley who turned it down with a small shake of his head, visibly relaxing when he heard Aziraphale say that they’d be undetected. 

“Well… that’s  _ concerning _ ” the demon whispered. 

“Yes. Rather. I’m afraid we’ll need to be more careful from now on”

“What? Like spend less time together?” Aziraphale was pleased at the note of worry evident in the demon’s hushed tone when he asked the question. It was gratifying to know that Crowley was worried at the thought of seeing him less.

“Of course not!” *crunch* “We’ll just need to be aware of who’s listening and put more spells in place to avoid detection” *crunch*

The two of them nervously turned their attention to the film. On screen, the witch, Gillian Holroyd (Kim Novak) was sitting on the sofa with Shepherd Henderson (Jimmie Stewart), preparing to cast a love spell on him. She clutched her purring, cat familiar to her chest and gazed seductively over it’s ears at Stewart, who was mumbling on and on about his upcoming wedding to Novak’s rival. 

“It did rattle me a bit though” *crunch* *crunch*

“I’m sure it did angel”

They sat in concerned silence for a moment, watching as Novak hummed an eerie tune, while continuing to stare with large, luminous eyes at Stewart, who was stammering into his wine glass. The plot felt embarrassingly familiar. Tempter and temptee. Aziraphale knew how Stewart felt, slowly turning into a stuttering mess under the onslaught of Novak’s lovely, glowing gaze.

Eventually, Novak’s spell is complete and Stewart pauses on his way out the door to go get married. He turns back, enthralled, his face betraying a sudden, awed tenderness, then walks to Novak in a trance. The spell has taken hold of him. He gently grasps her face in his hands and kisses her, in the way only movie stars in the 1950s could kiss. Making a closed mouth press of lips into something far more dramatic and affecting than it had any right to be. 

Aziraphale snuck a sideways glance at Crowley and saw, to his surprise that the demon was looking back at him. He’d abandoned his shades due to the darkness of the theater, and his yellow eyes were soft and half lidded as he gazed back at Aziraphale.    
  


_ Oh my _

Aziraphale quickly returned his eyes to the screen, heart pounding. Had he seen longing in Crowley’s gaze? Affection? Or had he imagined it?

They watched the rest of the movie in a slightly uncomfortable silence punctuated only by the sound of popcorn being consumed by a nervous angel. After the movie though, they went out for fish and chips and some pints of ale at a local pub, and Crowley regaled him with stories of his recent temptations involving government officials and cultural icons about whom Aziraphale was woefully uninformed. The angel was always about 115 years behind the times politically, and was barely even able to keep his clothing up to date. He’d done well until the dawn of the 20th century, and then had sort of given up, preferring to maintain the same cream coloured coat and bow tie he’d adopted in 1860 and 1930 respectfully.

Crowley on the other hand, was dressed in a well fitted black suit, with a pomade enhanced, perfectly quaffed pompadour hairstyle, tight, black pants and pointy, shiny shoes. His black, button down shirt was topped off by a thin, red tie. He looked incredibly handsome with his Ray-Ban sunglasses and sly smile. Aziraphale had to fight to stay focused on the demon’s words, when what he really wanted to do was lean across the small, wooden table at the pub and kiss him. He thought about kissing Crowley entirely too much. 

“Oi angel” Crowley snapped his fingers in front of Aziraphale’s face and the angel jerked himself out of his romantic imaginings with an embarrassed start. “Don’t go drifting off on me now. We have hours of drinking ahead of us”

Aziraphale covered for his lapse by smiling and reassuring Crowley that yes, he would indeed remain focused on the task at hand. He swiftly reached out with his angelic awareness and double checked that the wards he’d enacted about the pub were still in place and functioning properly.

“Crowley” he said, feeling daring after the romantic movie and a couple of pints of ale “I must say you look positively dashing tonight”

He was rewarded by a rare blush. “Thanks angel. Now shut up and order us another round”


	8. Chapter 8

It was 2008. The angel and the demon had consumed epic amounts of wine in the back of Aziraphale’s shop. After their conversation about the End of Days had gotten a bit too intense and morose for either of their tastes, Crowley and Aziraphale had rapidly sobered up and set about making a plan for how to handle the whole Antichrist situation. 

Crowley was certain his idea would work. It was simple enough for him to disguise himself as a well meaning (if austere) nanny and to apply for a position at the Dowling’s residence. It would be equally simple for Aziraphale to apply as a gardener. They could even influence the Dowlings into believing that they  _ needed _ a new nanny and a new gardener. A swift demonic spell, and quite a large amount of uncut cocaine, packaged in those clear, plastic bricks one saw on police procedural dramas would appear in the possession of the current nanny, and there would be ties implicating that the current gardner might be involved in the drug smuggling situation. 

Crowley wasn’t cruel, so he’d make sure that the Dowling’s wouldn’t feel the urge to press charges, but it would be enough of a scandal so that both the current nanny and current gardner would be fired summarily. After which, the whole coke incident would be forgotten by everyone involved (including the authorities) so as not to forever tarnish the reputations of the original nanny and gardener. Crowley really was a horrible demon. 

Satisfied that their plan to apply equal influence to the boy’s upbringing had been successfully laid out, the two had returned to drinking. They had to celebrate didn’t they?

Crowley was lounging bonelessly at one end of Aziraphale’s couch, while the angel sat, somewhat primly at the other end, both nursing glasses of Chateauneuff du pape. “It’ll work like a charm!” declared Crowley with the brazen confidence only a few glasses of wine and a lifetime of successful covert temptations could impart. 

“I’m not so sure Crowley”, Aziraphale, as usual, was worried. 

“Of course it will angel. Don’t be dense. The two of us? Working in tandem to help raise the boy? It’s a foolproof plan!” He punctuated his words by gesturing dramatically with his half full wine glass. “I’ve seen you when you really get going with that angel schtick. It’s impressive how boringly  _ good _ you can be”.

“Why thank you” Aziraphale remarked sarcastically, taking a long gulp of wine to try and calm his nerves. “And with you in charge of half of the boy’s development, he’ll be a rotten egg in no time”

“Thanks angel” Crowley’s response was genuinely warm, which he could tell irked Aziraphale, who’d wanted to shoot an equally cutting remark back at him, and who Crowley could now see was disgruntled that it hadn’t landed as he’d expected.

Feeling pleased with himself, and a bit loose with renewed wine consumption, Crowley slid himself down so that he was lying with his head propped up on an embroidered pillow against the arm of the sofa. He put his glass on a desk by his elbow and slid his feet forward so that they rested against Aziraphale’s warm, left thigh. 

He could see the path of the angel’s hand as he brought the wine glass back up to his lips pause for a split second when Aziraphale felt Crowley’s feet come to rest against his leg, but then the demon watched with relief as the angel completed the motion and brought the rim of the glass up to his lips and took another small sip. 

He’d requested unspoken permission for this rare instance of intimate touch and it had been accepted, permitted by the angel. 

Crowley sighed quietly at the feel of the angel’s soft, solid thigh beneath the soles of his feet. Aziraphale’s heat was swiftly soaking through Crowley’s socks and warming his perpetually cold toes. It reminded him of the long ago healed scars he’d earned from coming down the aisle of a church, decades ago to rescue his errant angel. 

He was pleasantly shocked when Aziraphale placed his wine glass on a small end table and reached down to stroke Crowley’s foot with a hot hand. The angel’s warm fingers came to rest around Crowley’s ankle, and Aziraphale gave it a firm and affectionate squeeze. 

The wine or the soft lighting or the feeling of safety and affection surrounding them must have caused Crowley to let his guard down significantly because he heard a soft moan escape his lips at the feel of the angel’s hot hand on his ankle. 

Aziraphale’s eyes swiftly flickered up to his face at the sound, and lingered there, large and luminous. Crowley had no idea what his own face must look like, but he felt certain that blushing could be involved. He felt flushed and suddenly intensely aroused at the angel’s simple touch. It didn’t help matters when Aziraphale moved his hand in a slow, languorous stroking motion up the side of Crowley’s calf to his knee and squeezed gently there as well. 

This caused Crowley to let out another low moan of pleasure. He didn’t bother hiding his feelings. How could he? He was utterly exposed. Relaxed, tipsy, lying supine on a soft couch with his one and only true love’s fingers creeping up his leg like a burning hot brand. He looked into Aziraphale’s eyes and saw passion there, deep in the blue-green depths of the angel’s gaze. Passion writ large, as plain as day. 

_ Oh dear Satan help me.  _ He was vaguely aware that his mouth was open and that his breath was coming faster. He wasn’t sure what was happening, but he knew he wanted more. More of Aziraphale’s hot hands on him. More intimacy. More shared touch. “Angel” he whispered weakly. “Angel” he repeated, uncertain of what else he could say. 

In what felt like the blink of an eye, Aziraphale had risen up on his knees on the sofa, parting Crowley’s legs with sure, hot hands and had leaned his body down, slowly, deliberately pressing his hips down on top of Crowley’s. Crowley had only the briefest of moments to enjoy the tight explosion of pleasurable sparks that resulted from the angel’s very erect cock pressing against his own, could only gasp loudly at the surprising pang of heat it caused inside him, before Aziraphale’s mouth was on his. 

And then they were kissing.  _ At last  _ they were kissing. Their mouths opened against each other immediately, desperately, and Crowley felt the angel’s warm, delicious tongue work it’s way into his mouth and heard the angel moan against his lips. Aziraphale’s solid weight on top of him, pressing him into the sofa cushions was causing multiple intense chemical reactions all over and through Crowley’s body. He swiftly wrapped his legs around Aziraphale’s waist, and thrust up against the angel shamelessly. 

He must be dreaming. He must be. This couldn’t be real. And then Aziraphale rolled his pelvis into Crowley’s with a firm pressure that eliciting a deep groan of passion from the demon and he realized it was all  _ definitely very real _ .

He kissed Aziraphale back with wild abandon, wrapping his arms around the angel’s broad shoulders and marveling at the feel of their slick tongues dancing together. Crowley could feel Aziraphale’s hot hands grasping his narrow hips, pulling him forcefully up and against the angel’s slowly thrusting pelvis and he thought he might seriously discorporate from the extreme pleasure of it. 

Aziraphale made a sharp, desperate sound into Crowley’s mouth and broke the kiss momentarily to whisper “Dear God Crowley. Dear  _ God _ . I.. I…” his eyes searching the demon’s face.    
  


“Don’t bring  _ Her _ into this” Growled Crowley and crashed their mouths back together, simultaneously reaching down to grab double handfuls of Aziraphale’s thick, firm buttocks and pulling him more tightly against Crowley’s straining cock. He was delighted to hear another high pitched whine of passion escape Aziraphale’s lips. Their bodies were separated by, at minimum, four layers of clothing and yet, just the feel of Aziraphale’s thick, hot hardness, even muffled by all that fabric, the friction as the angel moved against him, it was as if they were both utterly naked and slick. The sensation was blissful, maddening. Intensely good. 

Crowley abandoned the attention he was giving to Aziraphale’s astounding arse to wind his fingers hungrily into the angel’s bright, soft hair, grabbing fistfuls and pulling the angel into an even deeper kiss. It was just as silky soft as he’d imagined in his fantasies. Crowley ground his hips upwards into Aziraphale’s as he felt more explosions of pleasure radiating out from where their bodies met. 

...It was then that they both heard the knock on the front door of the shop...

Both angel and demon froze, Aziraphale mid thrust. Crowley broke the kiss for a split second to hiss “Make Them  _ Go Away _ ”, in a breathless voice he hoped wasn’t breaking the mood. 

Aziraphale however wasn’t listening. His eyes were suddenly quite serious and the desire that had gleamed in their depths, moments before was completely gone, replaced by a wary sort of panic. “It’s an angel” he whispered. “You need to hide”.

Crowley didn’t have to be told twice. He instantly transformed into a small snake, and ignoring Aziraphale’s yelp of surprise when he suddenly fell a Crowley’s width to the now empty sofa, he slithered up a nearby bookshelf and into a cranny at the top of the wall. He watched as the angel got up and smoothed down his clothing, making sure to pat his hair into place and tug down his waist coat before he went for the door. Crowley held his snake breath and waited. 

____________________________________

It was Sandalphon. Of course. Aziraphale struggled to appear calm, which considering that he had just moments ago been wrapped up in Crowley’s arms, doing increasingly unangelic things and was now confronting a small minded and vindictive supervisor from work, was a difficult chore to say the least. 

“Sandalphon” he said, struggling to infuse his tone with the smallest amount of warmth and probably failing miserably. Why did he have to have the taste of the demon’s kisses still lingering in his mouth while looking into Sandalphon’s, round, pinched face? “Welcome. What brings you here at this hour?”

Sandalphon rudely pushed past him into the foyer of the shop “Won’t you come in?” Aziraphale mumbled, a touch sarcastically as the other angel stepped a bit farther into the shop and looked around with a suspicious glint in his beady eyes. “It smells off in here. Like… something evil” he sneered without preamble. 

“Oh, That would be the Jeffrey Archer books I’m afraid” quipped Aziraphale, irritation mixing with his fear that Sandalphon was being so opaque in his desire to try and catch Aziraphale doing something he shouldn’t. 

“Well, either way Aziraphale, I’ve come to tell you that the antichrist has been delivered to the American attache to the president, and that the End of Days has been set in motion”. 

“Oh my! Oh, well, that  _ is  _ important.” Aziraphale worked as hard as he could to sound surprised. “Thank you for letting me know Sandalphon. Quite considerate of you”

“We need you to step up your game Principality” Sandalphon spat out the title as if it left a bad taste in his mouth. “Gabriel tells me you’ve been having a bit too much  _ fun _ lately.” He turned to pin Aziraphale with a piercing, disapproving gaze. “Eating out at restaurants. Collecting…  _ books _ ”.

Aziraphale gulped. Had they been tracking his movements? How closely had they been watching him? Unbidden, memories of how good it had felt to have Crowley’s lithe body, pressed up against his, the demon’s mouth hot and open against his own, flooded Aziraphale’s mind. He forcefully pushed the thoughts away and focused instead on Sandalphon’s stern glare. The short, round angel had a face that would calm any burgeoning erection in milliseconds. 

“Come now Sandalphon. You know I’m just as devoted to the cause as I’ve ever been! I need to fit in down here if I’m to help the humans avoid temptation.”

“About that.” Sandalphon drawled in his best corporate stuffed shirt voice. “You’ve been seen socially interacting with the demon Crowley. Care to explain what that’s all about?”

Aziraphale felt a cold knot clench in the pit of his stomach.  _ How much did they know? _

“Oh. That’s nothing Sandalphon. I was tasked with keeping an eye on him all those millenia ago and I’m simply doing my job. From time to time, we run into one another. He has no clue that I’m watching him. He’s quite a simpleton really. I’ll chat with him for a few minutes here and there and then he’ll go on his merry way, none the wiser!”

“Gabriel says that you’ve been a bit  _ too _ familiar with him as of late” Sandalphon said casually. “Gabriel said that you have no cause to be ‘bumping into him’ at all. And that if you’re seen spending any time with him that constitutes  _ fraternizing _ that… well, there’ll be heaven to pay. Is that clear Aziraphale?”

Aziraphale felt his blood run cold with dread. “Y-yes Sandalphon” he stuttered. “But there really is no need for corrective measures. I’ve done nothing wrong. In fact, I’ve successfully thwarted him at every possible opportunity.”  _ Thwarted him and gazed lovingly at him over a table at the Ritz.  _ Funny how he never remembered lying to heaven before Crowley came along?

“Very well then” Sandalphon was apparently adequately mollified by Aziraphale’s explanation and he turned for the door. Aziraphale felt his knees grow weak with relief at the thought that this uncomfortable interaction was coming to an end. 

Sandalphon paused as he was halfway out the door though and looked back at Aziraphale with cold, angry eyes “One last thing Principality. We’ve been in communication with Down Below as well. If the demon Crowley is found to be interfering with your plans, or if God forbid, you’ve been  _ friendly  _ to him, they’ll punish him quite severely”

Aziraphale gulped, feeling his stomach lurch with sudden nauseous dread. “As well they should” he said, his voice a hoarse whisper. Sandalphon had the gall to grin, showing off his gold teeth in a rictus that would only really pass for a smile among serial killers and corporate lawyers. And then, mercifully, he left the shop, winking out of sight with a quick miracle the second the door banged shut behind him. 

Aziraphale let all the breath he’d been holding out in a relieved sigh and locked the door. He placed an extra obscuring miracle around the entire shop so that if any other angels approached, he’d sense it with plenty of time to do something about it. Crowley’s kisses and the smell of him and how he felt in Aziraphale’s arms had proven to be a very potent distraction, and Aziraphale didn’t want a repeat of Sandalphon’s surprise visit.

_ Crowley! _

Aziraphale rushed to the back of the shop in search of the demon, but his sitting room was empty and silent. The angel called Crowley’s name and there was no response. The demon had apparently fled. Aziraphale sat dejectedly on his sofa. He grabbed the decorative pillow that Crowley’s head had rested against as they’d been wrapped up in each other’s arms and hugged it to his chest, smelling the lingering scent of Crowley’s fancy hair product. He sighed deeply and was surprised to feel tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. What were they to do now? 

________________________________

Crowley had left the moment he’d heard Sandalphon threaten Aziraphale for their social connection. He longed to be back in Aziraphale’s warm arms and to continue what they’d been working towards. He ached to do so in fact, but no amount of kisses and embraces could ever be worth any harm coming to his angel. 

He’d slithered out a small crack in the back window of the shop, into the alley and had snapped his fingers, bringing himself and his Bentley back to his own flat in a split second. It wouldn’t do for Sandalphon to hear the start of the Bentley’s motor or to risk being seen. He went up to his flat and immediately poured himself a large tumbler of scotch. He was disturbed to see how badly his hands were shaking as he raised the glass to his lips. 

What were they to do now? Every cell in his body wanted Aziraphale. Wanted to hold him and kiss him and make passionate love to him. He’d been shocked but overjoyed that the angel had taken matters into his own hands and had chosen to get so deliciously physical with him. Maybe all it had taken was for Crowley to make the first move? The placing of his socked feet against Aziraphale’s leg. Had that been the final straw that broke the camel’s back of their centuries long yearning? 

Until tonight, Crowley had honestly not even known if Aziraphale returned his feelings. The angel was so infuriatingly proper, so polite and sweet (when he wasn’t being a stuffy bastard that is). It had been very difficult to suss out how much of the angel’s sweet nature was love for all of humanity and how much of it could have been love for Crowley himself. 

But now, the angel had removed all question of his affections for the demon. He’d knocked down the wall between them like a battering ram and had made his desires quite clear, in a way that set Crowley’s body burning like a raging bonfire. He loved this sexual, take charge side of Aziraphale. A side he hadn’t known existed before tonight. Just thinking about the way the angel thrust his hips slowly into Crowley’s, how the angel kissed Crowley with such heated abandon made the demon’s body temperature spike and his breath come faster. 

But then he remembered Sandalphone’s words “ _ There will be Heaven to pay _ ”. How could he pursue something physical with Aziraphale if it risked the angel’s safety? If anything happened to Aziraphale, Crowley would not be able to stand it, would surely die without him. There was no one in any realm that compared to his beautiful, complex, maddeningly obstinate angel. If Aziraphale were taken from him, he’d go straightway to a bar and drink himself into a stupor, then throw himself into the closest font of holy water he could find. 

Crowley knew he was being dramatic, but he also knew that he was being honest with himself. He was madly in love with Aziraphale. And this beautiful world they shared would be meaningless without the angel at his side. 

He finished his scotch and then proceded to drink three more tumblers, before clambering into bed, fully dressed and falling into a deep sleep. He had fitful dreams of kissing Aziraphale’s soft lips before the angel was pulled away from him , screaming, into a pit of fire.


	9. Chapter 9

It was the end of a long day and brother Francis was showing Warlock how to plant begonias along the edges of the decorative walkway at the back of the Dowling’s residence. 

Warlock was clearly struggling to pay attention. He’d been at school all day and had come home to eat a quick snack before wandering out into the garden to play (with nanny Astoreth’s permission of course). He liked brother Francis. The old man was friendly and funny and told endless parables and historical tales that always seemed to have moral underpinnings. Warlock would sit and talk to him in the times when nanny Astoreth was busy cooking or cleaning or doing secretive womanly things alone in her quarters. 

So today, brother Francis was instructing Warlock on how to plant flowers, and simultaneously telling him about how all creatures, great and small deserved respect and autonomy, and how he must never harm another living thing (“Except mosquitos!” Warlock had piped up, and brother Francis had grudgingly agreed. Mosquitos could be crushed under Warlock’s heel if need be). 

Warlock had been curious about something for a while, and so when there was a small lull in conversation as the plump groundskeeper pressed the soil in and around the latest clump of begonias with weathered hands, the boy had asked him “Are you in love with nanny Astoreth?”

He was surprised when brother Francis lost his footing where he’d been crouching over the row of flowers to fall backwards onto his ample bottom with a shocked grunt. “My my! What would make you ask that young sir?!” Warlock noticed that brother Francis sounded flustered. Like how his mother sounded when his father asked her how many glasses of wine she’d had after dinner. 

“Well, you sure do look at her a lot. And sometimes, you sigh, like how the ladies sigh in mommy’s soap operas” Warlock said. 

“Well.. I … I’m sure you must be mistaken young Warlock. I barely know nanny Astoreth. I’m certain she’s a fine woman, but I’m not… in ...love with her” Warlock noted that brother Francis struggled a bit when saying the words ‘in love’. 

“Oh. OK” He responded simply, letting brother Francis change the subject. He’d just have to ask nanny Astoreth and see what she thought.

He found nanny later that evening, sitting in the kitchen, shucking corn for dinner. “Hello nanny”

“Hullo Warlock” nanny said in her charming Scotish brogue. “How are we tonight?”

“I’m fine nanny. I have a question for you though”. 

“Please do ask my dear. What d’you want to know?”

“Do you think brother Francis is in love with you? And are you in love with him?”

Nanny Astoreth dropped the ear of corn she was shucking and turned a bright pink color about the cheeks. “Ehem” she cleared her throat and grabbed clumsily for the abandoned corn cob that had rolled under the kitchen table. “Ehem” she repeated upon straightening and fixing Warlock with a look from behind the dark, corrective lenses she wore for her eye condition. “Now what makes you ask that deary?”

“Oh nothing really. It’s just that he looks at you all the time, and I’ve noticed you watch him from the kitchen windows whenever he’s out in the garden while you’re cooking. And you turn pink whenever he talks to you. My friend Sally at school says girls turn pink when they like boys.” He thought for a moment while nanny Astoreth stared at him in shocked silence. “Well… girls with pale skin anyway.. And I know you’re not a girl, but you have pale skin and you turn pink whenever you see brother Francis.” Warlock had given this a lot of thought.

“Don’t be silly lad”. Nanny Astoreth had apparently found her voice again, which was gruff and a bit deeper than usual as she responded. “Brother Francis is a kind man and a very good gardener, but he’s got a face only a mother could love and he’s a bumbling fool. I can reassure you that I am  _ not _ in love with him.”

She smoothed her skirts and cleared her throat in a distracted manner. “Now, have you finished writing that paper on great innovators of ancient history?”

“Not yet” mumbled Warlock. “I’ve just started on Vlad the Impaler and I still need to do some research on Joseph Stalin and Typhoid Mary”

“Well, why don’t you spend some time working on your paper before dinner. I’ll call up when its ready dear”. 

Warlock nodded and reluctantly stomped upstairs to do research on the “great and admirable icons of history” that nanny Astoreth was teaching him about. He supposed his instincts about the nanny and the gardener had been wrong after all?

_____________________

Later in the evening, after the Dowlings had all gone to bed, nanny Astoreth and brother Francis sat, side by side on a bench out in the garden for their nightly drink. It was a routine they’d established almost immediately after coming on as employees of the Dowlings a few years prior. Nanny had abandoned her glasses as the garden was dark, lit only by the small yellow blinks of fireflies, and the soft, white glow that brother Francis exuded beside her. 

“How was your day?” asked brother Francis, casting a sidelong glance at the nanny. She looked quite fetching as usual in her dark dress, her scarlet hair set in pleasing curls about her angular face. 

“It was fine. And yours? The boy’s coming along nicely I’d say” she added. 

“Yes.. yes he is. I spent most of the afternoon teaching him about the sanctity of life.” brother Francis had dropped the west country accent he used when talking to the Dowlings and now reverted back to his proper one. 

“And I spent most of the evening helping him research evil deeds and villainous mass murderers.. So… yeah. Things are going along quite well.” responded nanny in a voice far too deep to belong to the slender woman who sat beside brother Francis on the bench. 

Brother Francis took a deep breath and let it out slowly “Are we ever going to talk about it?” he asked, cautiously, turning now to look at nanny Astoreth in the dim twilight. 

“Talk about what?” Astoreth replied, her tone strained. 

“You know what.” Francis responded in a pained voice. “What happened… between us. That night”

“No point” Nanny Astoreth spat out the words impatiently. “Why bring it up? Nothing to be done about it now”

_ It _ being something she spent way too much time contemplating when alone in her quarters at night.

“Look” she continued in a softer, gentler tone. “They’ll kill us if they find out, so its best to simply stick to the plan. Otherwise… Well… I don’t know what I’d do if.. If..” she was unable to finish the sentence because a large lump had risen in her throat, making speech impossible. 

She felt brother Francis shift slightly on the bench beside her, and felt his large, weathered hand envelop her smaller, softer one where it rested on the bench between them. “The boy has started to notice” brother Francis’s voice was thick with emotion and he’d dropped to a whisper. “If a 10 year old can see it, how can we expect to hide from Heaven and Hell?”

“I don’t know.” Astoreth felt her heart sink in her chest. “I don’t know, but we have to try.”, and then, as if to completely bely her words, she slid closer to brother Francis on the bench and let her head come to rest against his broad shoulder. They sat that way for a while until wordlessly, they broke contact and went off to their bedrooms on opposite sides of the Dowling’s estate. 

They didn’t bring up their deeper connection again for a long time, preferring to focus on the task at hand (raising Warlock and averting the Apocalypse). They reverted back to the way they’d behaved before that night in the back of the bookshop. Reverted to comraderie, laced with cynicism and light hearted jokes. No more longing looks, no more lingering touches. It was painful for both of them, but the thought of losing one another was infinitely more painful, and so they buckled down and kept their true hearts locked away. 


	10. Chapter 10

It wasn’t always easy to suppress their feelings. Like the time Crowley had snapped and slammed Aziraphale up against the wall in the convent-turned Business Team Building Weekend Workshop. He had been unable to bear Aziraphale calling him “nice”. Reminding him of his weakness for the angel. A weakness that could cause the ruin of both of them. A few more compliments like that, a few more kind, loving glances and someone would find out for sure. 

Still, somehow they made it through. As friends. Good friends and nothing more. The Apocalypse was narrowly averted, with the help of some very unusual humans (including that strange woman they’d hit with Crowley’s car). Things had gone pear shaped for a minute there, out on the Tadfield airbase and Crowley had thought that he’d have to say goodbye to Aziraphale for the last time. He’d only scraped up the courage to say “It was good knowing you”. 

Luckily Aziraphale had been far braver, demanding that he “Do something!” and threatening to never speak to Crowley again if he didn’t.

They’d counseled Adam towards stopping Lucifer, and somehow, those few minutes spent together, reassuring the lad, and taking his hands, inside the bubble of stopped time that Crowley had cast into being had done more good than all those years counseling Warlock as his nanny and his gardener. Its strange how things work out in the end. 

Now they sat, alone at last and at peace, on a wooden bench, waiting for a bus to take them home. Home? Where was that exactly? Aziraphale’s shop had burned down (a fact that Crowley had sadly needed to remind the angel of), and the Bentley was utterly destroyed, consumed by a fireball from Crowley having driven it straight through the M25 to get to the airbase. To get to Aziraphale. 

Luckily, Aziraphale was back in his own body now. Magically recorporated by Adam. The boy’s powers were vast and unknown at this point, but Crowley was incredibly grateful that they seemed to include the ability to return his angel to him properly, in a new body that seemed exactly the same as his old one. 

Upon seeing Aziraphale’s crestfallen face at the reminder that his shop had burned down, Crowley had summoned up the courage (for the second time that night) to say something very difficult to say. 

“You can stay at my place” he’d suggested in a soft voice “If you like”.

He watched cautious hope bloom on Aziraphale’s features, but then the angel had said, in a voice full of soft regret “I don’t think my side would like that very much”. Poor Aziraphale. Still trying to be a good angel, even after everything they’d done. 

“You don’t have a side anymore” Crowley reminded him gently. “We’re on our own side” 

Later, on the bus, Aziraphale had turned to Crowley and changed his mind. “I think I’ll take you up on that offer dearest” he said, in a voice that sounded beaten down and exhausted. Still, Crowley had felt joy leap in his chest as the angel accepted his invitation. Aziraphale then reached over and intertwined his fingers with Crowley’s. Crowley had looked down in surprise, marveling at the sight of the angel’s soft fingers, interlaced with his long, boney ones. It was a lovely thing to behold. And it felt ever so intimate and so warm. 

Crowley smiled quietly as he looked out the window to watch the dark countryside slip by. The Oxford bus headed inexorably towards London. This was nice. Sitting next to Aziraphale like this.. His warmth gently radiating into Crowley’s side. Their hands clasped together. 

He was snapped out of an exhausted trance as the bus gently jolted to a halt outside Crowley’s flat. He got up and lead the angel off the bus and up to the front door of the building, fumbling for the keys while Aziraphale waited patiently, shoulders slumped and eyes shadowed. Crowley needed a drink and a long nap, in that order. 

It was quiet in the elevator, and Aziraphale, usually quite chatty, was silent as he waited for Crowley to unlock the door and let them into the flat. Once the door was shut behind them, Crowley made sure to lock it securely, then set demonic traps around the hallway outside and down by the front door, in case any demons attempted to come after them in the night. Aziraphale, realizing what Crowley had done, placed his own spells and miracles about the building and over the door. Now they were double ensured. They’d be secure for tonight, even if Heaven or Hell could actually get it together enough to make an assault on them. Unlikely, but it felt good to know they were safe for the next 12 hours or so. 

Crowley threw his jacket on the end of his large, black leather sofa and headed for the kitchen. “Drink angel?” 

“Yes please dear.” Aziraphale replied as he removed his coat and laid it next to Crowley’s before taking a seat on the sofa. 

Crowley went to the cabinet and grabbed a bottle of red wine and two glasses, the only things in the cabinet, as he rarely ate and only ever entertained Aziraphale every once in a blue moon. He returned to the living room and poured Aziraphale a glass, which the angel took gratefully, downing half of it in one swallow. Crowley obligingly refilled his glass and then settled back on the couch beside the angel. Not touching him.. Careful to leave a foot and a half or so between them. 

He leaned back into the cushions and let out a long sigh. “It’s been a rough day angel”

“Yes, it has” Aziraphale’s voice sounded strange. Tired, resigned, but also nervous. Crowley supposed he had a good reason to feel nervous, considering that they might not live very long past tomorrow. 

“Crowley?” The demon moved his head to the side to look at the angel and saw that Aziraphale had turned on the sofa so that he could face the demon, tucking his leg up under him and leaning his side against the back of the couch. He draped his arm along the top of the sofa behind Crowley’s head. The almost-touch made the demon’s heart rate increase slightly. 

“Yes angel?” Crowley kept his eyes on Aziraphale’s face, noting how the angel looked sad. He wasn’t sure why, but he didn’t like it. 

“Will they… will they kill us do you think?” Aziraphale asked in a halting voice.

“Oh angel. They’ll certainly try” replied Crowley. He reached up and grabbed Aziraphale’s hand and held it in his own. Doing his best to soothe his friend. 

“Well, if that’s the case”, Aziraphale returned Crowley’s gaze earnestly and somberly as he gave Crowley’s hand a squeeze. “I think it’s high time I kissed you again. I’ve wanted to for so very long.” 

Crowley felt his heart leap in his chest. “Angel, but what if..”   
  


“What if nothing Crowley. I don’t care anymore” His eyes had taken on a fierceness Crowley had only seen once before, and that was several hours ago on the Tadfield airbase as he’d faced down the Lord of Hell with a flaming sword. 

Crowley was off the sofa like a shot and into the kitchen, pacing, gasping for breath, wringing his hands in anguish. “Angel no.” He growled. “if they capture you, it will go so much better for you if you tell them there’s nothing between us. I can’t harm your chances to plead innocence on that front”.

Aziraphale got up and walked over to a panicking Crowley. Slowly, with cautious hands outstretched and kind eyes. “Crowley. Come now dearest. They won’t care. You saw how angry Gabriel was earlier today. He and Beelzebob will recommend the worst kind of punishment for us both, even if we spend tonight talking on the sofa and sleep… sleep separately. You know we’re in for a pound at this point don’t you?”

Crowley backed away from Aziraphale. His hands were up too at this point, but to protect him from the advancing angel, not in placation. He hit the edge of the kitchen countertop and stopped, with nowhere else to go. He saw the angel stop too, a few feet away, regarding him with sad, pleading eyes. The sight caused his insides to twist painfully. 

Aziraphale took one more small step forward, a little bit closer to Crowley, but came no further, realizing how distressed the demon was and clearly not wanting to push him. 

“Crowley dearest. Surely by now you realize how very much I love you?”

“L-love me?” Crowley stammered, his heart beating like a caged animal in his chest. 

“Yes Crowley.” Aziraphale affirmed, hands still up as if reaching for the demon, only he kept himself too far away to touch him. “Yes. I’m so hopelessly in love with you that it hurts. Perhaps you weren’t sure of that all these years?” His tone grew even sadder, as if hiding his feelings from Crowley might have hurt the demon and now Aziraphale felt guilt over this. 

“I know what I’ve said before, about not needing you. About it..us being over, but that was all said out of fear that they’d take you away from me. That this, how I feel for you would end in your destruction. I tried to keep you safe by pushing you away from me. I’m so sorry Crowley”

“Perhaps” the angel continued, his voice dropping to a near whisper, “You don’t feel the same way?” and his eyes filled with tears. “If that were the case, after all I’ve said and done, I’d understand and leave you be”

Crowley could only take so much. Before the angel could say any more sweet, heart breaking things, Crowley stepped in close to him, wrapped his arms around Aziraphale’s neck and kissed him. He felt Aziraphale’s warm arms come around him and squeeze him tight and felt the angel kiss him back, fiercely. They were both crying now, and neither seemed to care. Crowley gently nudged Aziraphale’s mouth open with his tongue and tasted a mix of their tears and the sweet, sweet taste of the angel’s lips and tongue as the kiss deepened. The angel was making high pitched, desperate noises in the back of his throat, grasping Crowley by his sharp hip bones and pulling him closer.

Before anything else could happen, Crowley broke the kiss momentarily and pulled back to look Aziraphale in the eyes, which were a luminous, stormy color, just like on the day they met, so many thousands of years ago.

“Angel Aziraphale” Crowley said, winding his fingers in Aziraphale’s soft hair. “I love you so much it makes it hard to breath. I struggle to sleep most nights with how much I love you. It’s been sort of an issue really” he smiled and Aziraphale smiled back through his tears. “If you ever e _ ver _ doubt the strength of my feelings, all you have to do is ask and I’ll make them abundantly, intensely clear to you in whatever way you’ll let me”.

Aziraphale was beaming. He was quite literally glowing. A gentle, blue white light emanated from his face and hair. 

“Look at you” Crowley murmured affectionately. “You’re so beautiful” and he kissed Aziraphale again. This time, there was desperation in the slide of their lips together. The barriers were down. There was nothing left to lose except each other, which they’d always feared. Now though, since their destruction was all but assured, it lent an intensity to the moment that compounded the already six thousand years of wanting into a fever pitch. 

Crowley released his hold on Aziraphale for a second to snap the angel’s bow tie out of existence. Yes, Aziraphale looked quite ridiculously charming in it, but it had stood like a chastity belt between him and the angle’s lovely neck for far too many decades and it needed to go. Aziraphale didn’t complain, and and so Crowley slid a hand down Aziraphale’s front to undo all of the buttons of his shirt and waistcoat in one, smooth motion. Meanwhile, Aziraphale effortlessly pushed Crowley’s silk shirt off his shoulders. It disappeared before it hit the ground. 

_ Yes  _ thought Crowley rebelliously.  _ Yes. goodbye to clothing. Goodbye to barriers. _

Crowley let his kisses stray in a burning path across Aziraphale’s cheek and down onto his neck, sucking little pink spots into the pale flesh as he went. This freed up Aziraphale’s mouth to gasp in surprised pleasure. “Crowley. My love. My dearest” He struggled to get the words out. “Perhaps this might be more comfortable on your bed?”

“Mmmf” Crowley murmured incoherently from where he was now investigating Aziraphale’s collar bone. He hadn’t seen the top of Aziraphale’s chest in roughly 300 years. It had been too long and he struggled to pull himself away from the perusal of it with his mouth to respond to the angel. “Yeah. Yes angel. Good idea”

He pulled away and grabbed Aziraphale by the hand, pulling him toward the bedroom. Once there, he snapped away the rest of his clothing and wrapped Aziraphale in an embrace, capturing his mouth again with heated fervor. Aziraphale snapped his own clothing away a few seconds later and both of them gasped out loud at the feel of their fully naked bodies pressing together for the first time. 

“Oh god. You feel like silk” Aziraphale’s voice shook as he spoke against Crowley’s open mouth. “You feel like the softest, best thing. Oh god. Crowley, your body.. It’s it’s..”

“I know angel” Crowley interrupted him, breathless and drunk on the angel’s skin. “I can’t stand how good it feels. Now shut up and get onto the bed before I throw you onto it” 

Aziraphale hurried to comply and sat on the edge of the bed, only to have Crowley push him onto his back and straddle him. Together, they awkwardly crawled and shifted until their bodies were fully on Crowley’s fancy, memory foam mattress and then Crowley laid himself fully on top of Aziraphale. Both of them cried out at the pressure and the friction, and then Aziraphale was pulling him down into another kiss. 

Things got a little hazy after that. Crowley’s brain couldn’t fully process the intense pleasure of how it felt to have Aziraphale’s soft, yielding body moving beneath him. The feel of the angel’s hot, rock hard cock pressing against his as he kissed Aziraphale like he was a drowning man seeking air inside the angel’s mouth. He had the presence of mind to break the kiss long enough to run a long hand over his wet tongue, and leaning back, he snaked his wet hand down to use his saliva and their combined precum to slick them up so that they slid together more smoothly. He then set about moving against Aziraphale in an achingly slow rhythm, and was rewarded by a loud yelp from the angel who grabbed onto his hips with a tight grip to pull him even closer. 

It was intoxicating and overwhelming. Aziraphale’s hot mouth, melting against his own. Aziraphale’s silky soft body, crushed beneath him. The feel of their passion moving together in a torturous friction that pulled noises from his throat he hadn’t known he was capable of making before now. High pitched wines and low groans issued from him at the feel of the angel’s body against his. 

“I’ve thought about doing this with you a lot” he spat out awkwardly. Unsure of what he was saying but feeling compelled to say it regardless. “So many times, I’ve pictured you, beneath me, on top of me, against me. Angel. I.. I’ve needed this for so many centuries. I won’t last much longer”

“Darling” Aziraphale breathed back, looking intently up into Crowley’s eyes. “You feel so incredibly good. I’m close too. It’s alright. We have the rest of the night together” and he pulled Crowley back down into another kiss. Crowley increased the thrusting motion of his hips against Aziraphale, the pleasure reaching an intensity that soon peaked with a sharp clenching feeling and then into waves of intense pleasure as he came, hard and gasping, his hips jerking. He heard Aziraphale succumb to pleasure beneath him crying out into his mouth and felt the hot wetness of their combined semen spreading against their stomachs. 

They continued to move against each other, enjoying the extra slickness and the receding jolts of pleasure for a few moments, then Crowley snapped away their combined mess and brought his hands up to frame Aziraphale’s face. “Angel” He said breathlessly, gazing down into pools of gray-green beauty. “Angel..I.. I am a part of you now and forever. You know that don’t you?”

“I do now” Aziraphale smiled his heartbreaking smile and wrapped his arms around Crowley’s narrow shoulders. “I didn’t always know it, but I do now. And I am yours as well. Forever and always. I’ll never leave your side again. They’ll have to drag me away”

Both of them were somber then for a moment, thinking about what might come the next day. 

“I think…” Crowley began uncertainly, his eyes searching Aziraphale’s face

“Yes my darling? What is it?” Aziraphale asked, looking a tiny bit worried.

“I think I’d like to shag you some more.” Crowley said with a grin. They both realized suddenly that they were still rock hard. 

“Oh my!” Exclaimed Aziraphale. "I’m never ready to go again after I do this by myself.”

“Me neither” Crowley said thoughtfully. “Must be you angel and how delicious you are.” He was silent for a moment and then continued “Or the fact that when I did this alone, I’d think of you, and then when I was done, I’d be sad that you weren’t there. It always sort of killed the mood.” 

“Well darling, I’m here now” Aziraphale replied, bringing soft, strong hands up to stroke Crowley’s hip bones suggestively. He nuzzled his face up against Crowley’s neck and gave his hips a little thrust upwards against the demon in a way that made Crowley gasp with immediately renewed passion. 

Suddenly, Crowley found himself flung over onto his back and Aziraphale was the one on top of him. My but the angel was strong. He often forgot that, what with all Aziraphale’s delicate china tea cups and his ridiculous bowtie. The angel was thrusting a very hard cock against Crowley’s upper thigh and raining soft little kisses down on Crowley’s upturned face. “Dearest?” he asked between kisses. “Might I .. do you think I could?”

“Spit it out angel” Crowley demanded with a smile on his lips, luxuriating in all the sweet little kisses to his eyelids and cheekbones. “Whatever it is, short of carving me up into little pieces with a sharp knife, I am almost certain I’ll enjoy it immensely.”

“Could I perhaps… Oh dear. This is rather hard to get out. Could I …. Ask you to … oh what is it humans say? Could I fuck you?”

Crowley’s eyes flew open and he actually gasped a little in shock. “Angel!” he gripped Aziraphale by the shoulders and grinned broadly, looking up into Aziraphale’s blushing face. “I’d be more than honored. And may I say, it’s adorable how bashful you are.”

“Have you ever done anything like that before?” Aziraphale asked in a small voice

“Never angel. Not with anyone. You are my first for a lot of things”

“You’re mine too” Aziraphale replied with a shy smile. 

“Well then, just go slow angel. We’ll learn together.”

“You’re sure it’s alright darling?”

“Are you kidding?” Crowley’s eyebrows crept up towards his hairline in incredulity “I’ve wanted you inside me for roughly three thousand years angel. I’m not sure how much more alright I can be with it at this point”

“Oh good!” Aziraphale’s joy was sweet and infectious. “I’d love it if you could return the favor as well darling.” Crowley felt his cock twitch where it lay, stiff and trapped against Aziraphale’s hot member between them. He let out an incoherent moan and thrust his hips up against the angel. 

“I’d um.. I’d love that” he groaned. They kissed for a moment, reveling in the feel of their bodies together. Crowley slowly parted his thighs to let Aziraphale settle between them, moaning at the pleasure of feeling the angel, thick and warm between his legs. “Give me your fingers” he rasped. Aziraphale uncertainly raised his hand towards Crowley’s face and Crowley enveloped Aziraphle’s pointer finger with his lips and sucked it deep into his mouth, wetting it with his saliva. This made Aziraphale shiver and moan. Crowley repeated the motion with Aziraphale’s third and fourth fingers. 

“Use your fingers to get me ready” he whispered. Aziraphale nodded and reached his fingers down to gently, hesitantly probe at Crowley’s tight opening. “You can do more than that Aziraphale. I won’t break” Crowley growled out in frustration. The angel took the hint and pushed two fingers slowly inside Crowley. The demon hissed and bucked gently up against Aziraphale’s fingers.

“Are you alright dearest?” Aziraphale asked uncertainly. Unsure if the noises Crowley made were pleasure or pain.

“I’m incredibly, insanely alright. Please give me more angel”

“Oh… well then” Aziraphale got a determined look on his face and he added a third finger and began thrusting in and out of Crowley’s anus with a slow steady rhythm. Crowley’s flung his head back and moaned loudly at the intense pleasure of being opened up by Aziraphale’s thick, hot fingers.

“Oh  _ yes _ angel. Oh yes. I can’t wait to get you inside of me. Please. Please” He begged, gripping Aziraphale’s broad shoulders and pushing himself down against the angel’s thrusting hand. “Please fuck me”

Not needing to be told twice, Aziraphale reached down between them to spread the copious amounts of slick precum over and down his hard cock and positioned it at Crowley’s entrance. Keeping his eyes locked with Crowley’s to detect any pain or discomfort on the demon’s face, with a slow, firm push, he slid himself inside and bottomed out with a low groan. 

“Oh dear God, darling, you feel ever so good” Aziraphale’s eyes had gone distant and glazed as he rested momentarily, fully inside of Crowley. Crowley had shut his eyes and was breathing deeply, letting out little whines and moans of need. He started to buck his hips just a little to try and move himself against the angel’s cock, deep inside him. “Shall I move now?” Aziraphale asked, breathless, flushed and trembling slightly.

“Dear Satan  _ yes _ .  _ Please _ angel”

Aziraphale pulled out a few torturous inches and slowly sank back in again. Crowley cried out in pleasure, feeling stretched and filled and closer to Aziraphale than ever. He grasped the angel’s face in his hands and stared intently into his eyes. “Fuck me angel. Fuck me as hard as you want to. I can take it. I… fuck. I  _ need _ you to fuck me..  _ Now _ ”

Aziraphale complied but went slowly at first. Pulling out again and sinking back in, with a bit more force. Crowley gasped and reached down to put his hands on Aziraphale’s hips to help pull him deeper. When Aziraphale saw the clear signs that Crowley wanted more, he pulled out again and slamming back into Crowley so hard that the demon’s breath was pushed from his lungs in a rush. A sharp cry from the demon and more desperate tugs of his hands on Aziraphale’s hips and then the angel set up a steady, devastating rhythm. He pounded his cock into Crowley, grasping at Crowley’s hips with strong hands and worshiping the demon’s neck and chest with hot, wet kisses. “Oh god darling. Oh god. I love you so much. You feel so good. You feel so tight and so hot and so good” He babbled in between kisses. 

The sight and sounds of Aziraphale, flushed and open mouthed, thrusting above him was enough to bring Crowley close to orgasm very quickly, without any actual stimulation to his own cock. The feel of the angel, rubbing up against his prostate with every thrust was his undoing. “Angel… angel” Crowley let his desperate hands smooth across the angel’s broad back. He could feel thick muscles under the layer of soft flesh on the angel’s back moving and working as he pounded into Crowley. The feel of the angel’s body, so real, so hot and slick with sweat and the sound of his moans of pleasure and it pushed Crowley to the edge with the speed and force of a steam train. “Angel, I’m coming now” he gasped into Aziraphale’s ear as he felt his insides clench with sharp pleasure, felt himself explode in ecstasy, his cock twitching and spilling where it lay pulsing between their bodies. 

“Darling. My dearest. You feel so good. I can’t.. I’m going to.. . Oh oh  _ Crowley _ !” Aziraphale’s hips lost their rhythm and the angel thrust deep and gasped out his orgasm against Crowley’s sweat damp neck. A Note of desperation, mixed with wild joy tinged his open mouthed gasps as he thrust his way through his pleasure. He continued thrusting lazily, after his orgasm peaked, pulling the demon’s mouth to his for a deep kiss. 

Eventually, they cleaned themselves up and snuggled in close together, Aziraphale’s solid weight pressing Crowley delightfully into the mattress. Making him feel safe and protected and fully warm for probably the first time in recent memory. He sighed happily and let his fingertips trail lazily through Aziraphale’s hair.


	11. Chapter 11

Aziraphale must have fallen asleep, because he felt himself return to consciousness slowly, behind closed eyes. He felt a warm body on top of his, pressing him into the mattress and smiled happily at the memories of having made love to the demon. 

Something didn’t seem quite right though. The weight on top of him felt heavier than it should, and far warmer. Crowley was slender and light, so easy to flip him around in bed… Aziraphale’s sleepy grin widened at the memory.. But the weight pressing him down was substantial. He dared to crack his eyes open, giving himself a minute to adjust to the dim morning light streaming in through Crowley’s bedroom windows, and immediately tensed at what he saw. A thrill of panic ran through him.

What he saw was  _ himself _ . His mussy white-blond hair, but at a slight distance.  _ He was lying beneath himself! _ The weight he felt pressing down on him was his  _ own body weight _ , and he was wrapped up in his  _ own embrace _ .

He swiftly pulled an arm free from where he was currently embracing…  _ himself _ and brought it up to his eyes for a look. His arm was long and lean, and his hands were long boned and strong, but delicate. His nails were painted a glossy black.  _ Like Crowley’s nails _

_ WHAT? _

“C-Crowley! Crowley  _ wake up! _ ” He hissed, and was shocked to hear his voice, higher and sharper.. Crowley’s voice, issuing from his mouth. He shook the figure on top of him, and watched, with mild horror as his own body stirred and woke while not under his own control. He saw his own eyes flutter open and regard him, first hazily, and then with increasing fear and confusion. “Crowley!” He hissed again. “Something has  _ happened! _ ”

“Angel! What in Satan’s na-” The demon began, then stopped short as Aziraphale’s sonorous voice spilled out of his mouth. He looked at Aziraphale with dawning horror on his face. 

Swiftly they clambered out of each other’s arms and off opposite sides of the bed, standing uncertainly, staring at each other in shock, both fully naked and utterly confused. 

“Y-you’re me!” Crowley gasped, bringing his hands up to his mouth.. Then stopping short and looking down at his hands with alarm, turning them this way and that. He started patting his hands, square and thick instead of long and thin, down his forearms and shoulders and down his stomach, exploring his new body with awe. 

“And I’m you my dear” Aziraphale replied. He glanced down at his long, lean body and felt his face grow hot. 

“How… how..” Crowley’s inflection and tone coming out in Aziraphale’s own voice was disorienting in the extreme. Aziraphale felt a sickening pull of nausea in his stomach.

“I might be sick” he said thickly. Hearing Crowley’s voice saying the words did not help.

“Come on now angel, the view isn’t that bad is it?” Crowley, always the jokester. His irreverent tone, even in Aziraphale’s own voice, helped the angel to calm down a bit. “I’m certainly enjoying the view over here” the demon drawled, the suggestive words sounding so strange in Aziraphale’s voice. 

“Crowley!” Aziraphale scolded, trying to cope with the situation. “Crowley, what happened? Last thing I remember, I was wrapped up in your arms after we.. we…”

“That was one hell of a good shag” drawled Crowley, the raised eyebrow and devilish smirk looking out of place on Aziraphale’s sweet features. When Crowley saw how panicked Aziraphale looked, he relented with the joking. “Look angel. I’m a demon. We’re used to possessions and evil spells. Something strange has definitely happened here, but it doesn’t mean it can’t be fixed or reversed.”

Aziraphale had a sudden glimmer of inspiration. “Agnes Nutter!” he yelled. The demon regarded him blankly, his hazel eyes wide with uncomprehension. “Yes!” the angel continued. “The prophecy from the book! On the airfield. Don’t you remember Crowley? It said “choose your faces wisely. This  _ must _ have something to do with that, because look! We have. Different. Faces.” 

He stumbled awkwardly on Crowley’s long, flat feet around the bed and out into the hallway to the living room, where his coat was still draped over the arm of Aziraphale’s sofa. He quickly fished in the pocket for the scrap of singed prophecy paper and brought it hurriedly back to the bedroom to a confused Crowley. He thrust it at Crowley, who took it from him and read it outloud “Ye must choose your faces wisely. For soon enough, ye will be playing with fire”. Aziraphale watched with awe as comprehension dawned across his own familiar features. 

“Yes! Agnes Nutter!” Crowley cried out, waving the slip of paper back and forth in front of Aziraphale’s face. “Yes! I see it all now angel! We are meant to play a trick on our head offices!”

“Whatever do you mean dear boy?” Aziraphale was a bit slow on the uptake. It had been a confusing morning so far. 

“What do you think they’ll do to you if they capture you angel?” Asked the demon, placing his newly thick hands on newly thick hips and regarding Aziraphale with his mouth pressed into a firm line. The angle almost laughed out loud at seeing his beloved demon’s body language coming through so clearly on his own plush frame. 

“Well… they’d want to teach me the ultimate lesson most likely” Aziraphale mused. “Probably Hellfire? Heaven has a thing for irony.”

“So does Hell” Crowley said ruefully. “So they’ll likely use-”

“Holy water!” Aziraphale cut him off. Suddenly the plan was very very clear. “But… Holy water won’t work on me will it?? And Hellfire..”

“Won’t work on me” Crowley finished with a sly grin. “Angel, I think Agnes Nutter was a genius.” 

From there, the details of the plan fell into place quite quickly. They got dressed (While Crowley made repeated jokes about how he was going to miss the “spectacular view” of Aziraphale’s naked body every time he looked down) and set about practicing each other’s mannerisms. Spending most of the past six thousand years in each other’s company was good practice. And being deeply in love didn’t hurt. One is never quite so observant of another person than when one daydreams endlessly about kissing them. 

Pretty soon, Crowley had perfected Aziraphale’s fancy, southern accent and Aziraphale had perfected Crowley’s slinky swagger and lopsided grin. 

They were relatively certain that the plan could be a success. 

All too soon it became time to part ways. Crowley was to head out to Aziraphale’s bookshop to assess the damage (something the real Aziraphale would have most certainly done) and Aziraphale would wait behind for an hour or so and then meet Crowley at the ice cream stand in the park. 

They stood at the doorway to Crowley’s flat, looking uncertainly at each other. 

“This has got to work my darling” Aizraphale said, his voice trembling only a little bit from the relentless nervousness he felt deep in the pit of his stomach. 

“Yeah angel. It’ll work. Before you know it, we’ll be back together again”

“How will we… um… switch back?” Aziraphale asked

“I’m not sure” Crowley responded “But if Agnes Nutter knew this was going to happen, then she probably foresaw a way to undo it. Otherwise, I’ll be doing a  _ lot _ of masturbating in the near future”

Aziraphale gasped, scandalized but pleased. He stepped closer to Crowley, not quite bringing himself to do anything more intimate than take his hands and give them a squeeze. “I.. I love you very much dearest. You know that don’t you?”

“Yes angel. I do. And I love you too. Lets just get through this so I can get you back in my arms and do all the things I didn’t have time to do last night” he grinned again, with a sparkle in his eyes that looked quite strange on Aziraphale’s features. 

And with that, they embraced, awkwardly and parted ways. Aziraphale watched Crowley walk down the hallway to the lift with a sinking heart. What would he do if the demon didn’t make it back? What if hellfire were not the preferred form of punishment they’d settled on for him? What if it wasn’t holy water that awaited Aziraphale down in hell? 

Only time would tell how it would all play out. After Crowley disappeared into the lift, Aziraphale returned to Crowley’s now empty apartment. He went into the bedroom and stood for a moment, looking down at the rumpled sheets, upon which just hours prior he’d been making love to Crowley. He grabbed the pillow where the demon’s head had rested and wrapped his arms around it, buried his face in it and breathed in deep. Crowley’s smell was in the pillow, but also it was surrounding him. Crowley’s body was surrounding him. It was a very strangely intimate feeling. 


	12. Chapter 12

Crowley tried not to let his fear show as he rode up in the elevator, flanked by Sandalphon and Uriel, with his arms tied tight against his sides and a gag in his mouth. It helped that this fate was never one he could have foreseen, that he hadn’t imagined it on bad nights. So there were no well worn neural pathways for the fear to rush down. It was all new. More than new in fact as he hadn’t been in heaven in over six thousand years, and had no real memories of what it had been like back then. 

He supposed exhibiting fear would be normal for a person in his situation. For an angel on the way to what would undoubtedly be his execution at the hands of his compatriots, but he didn’t want to show fear in an un-Aziraphale way, and the two of them reacted very differently to stress. Aziraphale tended to get very nervous and fluttery when he was scared. Crowley got angry and started breaking things and baring his teeth. It wouldn’t do to slip out of character by accident. 

Soon, there was a soft, musical ping and the door to the lift opened up onto the main hallway of Heaven’s chambers.

____________________________

Aziraphale came back to consciousness being supported by two large demons, who each had a clawed hand under his arms to support his limp, strangely light body between them in the lift. It was stuffy and hot and the back of his head ached from where Hastur had unceremoniously whacked him with a crowbar. His hands were tied in front of him, and mercifully, he hadn’t been gagged. He swallowed and realized his throat was dry with fear. He’d never been to Hell before, and only had Crowley’s admittedly detailed descriptions to prepare him for what he’d see when the lift doors opened. 

Luckily, Crowley was a very imaginative and descriptive demon, for all that he rarely read books and wrote nothing more than a random note to Aziraphale now and then over the centuries. When the lift doors  _ did _ open, the scene that greeted Aziraphale was just as Crowley had described it. Filthy tile floors. Damp walls. High ceilings, lost in murky shadows. Grime on every surface. The only light came from dim, rectangular neon lamps hanging precariously overhead that buzzed and flickered. Aziraphale wondered if places like prisons and hospitals and some high schools hadn’t been inspired by Hell’s decore. Probably had. 

He was escorted down a long, dusty hallway into a dimly lit chamber where Hastur, Dagon and Beelzabub stood upon a raised dais, waiting for him. “Hey guys” Aziraphale said in as casual a tone as he could muster. He couldn’t quite bring himself to be as cocky and irreverent as Crowley would probably have been in a situation like this, and prayed that his greeting was appropriately demon-like. 

“Demon Crowley” drawled Beelzebub in a voice completely devoid of emotion. “You stand accused of murder. You will now be judged before a group of your peers and your punishment shall be decided forthwith”

Aziraphale didn’t think it was prudent at this time to bring up the fact that treating his punishment as a foregone conclusion was hardly in line with sound judiciary practice, so he kept his mouth shut. 

_ Poor dear Crowley  _ he thought as he looked around him at the dark, foreboding, grim sight of Hell. The demon had had to come down here regularly to check in with his superiors. Crowley didn’t belong here, among this filth and muck. He was such a beautiful creature. All long, lovely limbs and firy hair and soft, smooth skin. Nothing like the crusty, scaly demons Aziraphale was confronted with now. The angel wondered if anyone other than himself had shown Crowley any real affection over the centuries, and made a silent vow that he’d shower the demon with all the love and tenderness he possibly could from this point on if they both lived through this. 

It was then that he turned to survey the rest of the chamber and saw the large, white, claw foot bathtub. He felt relief surge through him in a rush. 

_______________________________________

Crowley suppressed a deep sigh of relief when he saw the minor demon with the spiked hair enter through a side door and toss a bag of flaming Hellfire to the marble floor in front of him. It swiftly grew in size and shape, rising like a massive, flaming tornado, up into the high vaulted ceilings above. 

_ Yes!  _ He thought with glee  _ They’re playing right into our hands!  _ He only had a moment to hope fervently that Aziraphale was confronting a large pool of holy water before Gabriel opened his stupid mouth and began speaking again. 

As it became clear to him that Gabriel and the rest planned to immolate Aziraphale without even the decency of a false trial, Crowley felt his fear being swiftly replaced by a bright, burning rage that rivaled the pillar of Hellfire before him. How  _ dare _ those condescending, hypocritical  _ wankers _ murder his sweet, beautiful angel? How dare they harm a hair on his angel’s lovely head? Hadn’t Aziraphale done his best to serve them all these long centuries? Sure, the angel had strayed here and there, but for the most part, other than a few small temptations, all Aziraphale had ever done was to be good and nice and helpful, and of course spend a lot of time with Crowley. He felt a pang of sympathy for his beloved as he looked up into Gabriel’s smug face. 

Soon Uriel came over to untie him from the chair where they’d had him bound. He stood and approached the writhing pillar of flame with apprehension. Not about the flames themselves. Hellfire felt like nothing more than a warm bath to him, post fall, but about expressing fear in a believable way. Deep down, he started to hope that they might make it through this with their lives and their freedom. 


	13. Chapter 13

Truth be told, Aziraphale had quite enjoyed his holy water bath. The sight of the abject terror on the demon’s faces as he’d lowered himself into the water with a contented sigh had had the effect of banishing the rest of his fear over being discovered. They believed,  _ truly believed _ that he was Crowley, and it was evident in their shocked expressions and gasps of fear. 

Still, he might have gone a bit far by asking Michael to miracle him a towel. The look on her face was priceless though, and wouldn’t Crowley be pleased to hear him recount the tale? 

They’d all promised to leave him alone in the future, and had ushered him swiftly towards the lift, all while keeping a safe distance of several yards. 

As soon as the lift doors closed, he swiftly banished all traces of the holy water from his clothes and body with a snap of his fingers and rushed to pull on Crowley’s insanely tight black jeans and silky shirt before the lift reached earthside. 

As the lift dinged and the door swished open, he virtually ran out of the lobby and headed for Berkeley Square, the rendezvous point he and Crowley had agreed upon earlier that day. He reached the park with his heart in his throat, eyes searching the area for that telltale glint of pale color that would signify that Crowley (ensconced in Aziraphale’s own body) had made it through safely as well.

For a heartstopping moment, he couldn’t see Crowley, but then, a couple with a baby carriage moved out of the way and he spotted the demon on a bench, lounging with his limbs splayed about in a way that Aziraphale had never done himself. He hastened over, breath coming faster. 

Crowley spotted him when he was a few yards away and rose swiftly from the bench. He opened his arms and Aziraphale fell into them, into a tight embrace. The impact of their bodies pushed a gust of a relieved sigh from his lungs. He could smell the ozone scent of Heaven on Crowley, on Aziraphale’s own form, and he was sure he smelled slightly of brimstone, but none of that mattered. They were back together again. 

Realizing that they were in public, they broke apart reluctantly and sat side by side. “Anyone watching?” Aziraphale asked, and Crowley did a demonic scan of the area. “Nope” he responded. They turned to each other. Aziraphale had given this some thought. 

“Crowley, the first time we swapped it was when we were, ehem.. Very physically close. But also, very emotionally.. engaged, if you catch my drift?” Crowley as Aziraphale nodded, face curious.

“So, Aziraphale continued, “I think physical intimacy is the key here”, and then, taking a minute to double check that no one was watching, he leaned in and pressed his lips to Crowley’s (to his own lips really). It was strange, never having kissed himself before (nor having wanted to), but he reminded himself that his lips were actually Crowley’s and oh how he wanted to kiss Crowley again and again for the rest of eternity. 

His hunch had been correct, because as their lips made contact, and as he heard a soft squeak of surprised pleasure leave Crowley’s throat upon having the angel kissing him, Aziraphale felt a disorienting lurch pass through his body. The earth below him spun dizzyingly and suddenly, he felt his limbs take on their familiar weight. He pulled back from the kiss to look lovingly into the dark circles of Crowley’s familiar black shades… finally back where they belonged, on Crowley’s own face.

The demon shook himself briefly, clearly a bit disoriented at the change in bodies yet again, but then he grinned, broad and white. “You’re a genius angel!” he exclaimed. “And my but it’s good to be seeing you again… from the outside.”

They kissed again, chastely because they were in a public park, just to reaffirm their separateness and their reunion with their proper bodies. 

Crowley leaned back and fixed Aziraphale with a flirtatious look above his dark shades. “Tempt you to a spot of lunch?” he asked.

Aziraphale wiggled happily “Temptation accomplished!” he exclaimed with glee and the two of them headed off to the Ritz for their first proper date. 

As they walked, Crowley reached down and grabbed Aziraphale’s hand. Aziraphale leaned in bumping his shoulder against Crowley’s affectionately as they walked, the way real couples did. And that’s what they were now, weren’t they? A real, proper couple, out and about together. Carefree and in love. 

Their favorite table by the piano was of course available when they arrived. They sat, side by side, and Aziraphale ordered multiple things, stuffed dates and broiled scallops, foie gas and braised chicken and two bottles of sauvignon blanc. Crowley simply nursed his glass of wine and took small bites here and there when Aziraphale offered them. But otherwise, he was content to gaze at Aziraphale with his chin in his hand. Aziraphale ate with gusto and grinned like a fool and told Crowley all about what had happened Downstairs. Crowley was uncharacteristically silent, but appeared happy. He had a dopey grin on his face as he watched Aziraphale eat and talk. 

Eventually, Aziraphale ran out of things to say, and by that point, he’d run out of food as well, having polished off his lemon-berry savarin. He found that he and Crowley were simply gazing at one another over their wine glasses. 

“You’re quiet tonight darling” Aziraphale ventured.

“Yeah angel. I’m sorry. I’m really enjoying myself, only…” he paused, appearing to struggle with something.

“Only what dearest?” Aziraphale prompted

“Only… I… I think I might like to marry you angel.” 

Aziraphale nearly dropped his wine glass in surprise. “You what?” he breathed. Certain he’d misheard the demon. 

“The way they treated you.. me.. Upstairs” Crowley continued in a soft, measured voice. “It made me so angry. They didn’t care a whit for your happiness. They’re angels for fuck’s sake. They’re supposed to be  _ loving _ , not murderous. And then.. I thought about how much I wanted to keep you safe from them. How I wanted nothing and no one to ever hurt you again.”

He stopped for a minute, toying absently with an errant blueberry that rolled around his plate with his dessert fork. “And then I thought about how very much I love you.” He said in a hushed voice. “And how I wanted to keep loving you for as long as we both exist. And how I could maybe make that love into a declaration… a public thing. So that all of the demons and angels could see us as we truly are. Free agents. Free agents who belong to one another.” 

Aziraphale couldn’t breath. His heart was pounding and he felt a wild surge of joy rising up from deep inside him. 

Then Crowley did something rare. He took his shades off, right there in the middle of the Ritz. Placing them on the table by his plate, he picked up Aziraphale’s hand from where it rested, trembling slightly, and held it tenderly in both of his own long fingered hands. He looked deeply into Aziraphale’s eyes, his own, bright yellow eyes shining, and spoke again, in a voice that shook a little with emotion. “Angel Aziraphale, will you do me the honor of marrying me? Even though I am a demon and a scoundrel and a fallen angel. I’ll do my best to make you happy for the rest of our lives”.

Aziraphale felt his face split into a huge grin, felt tears making hot tracks down his cheeks. “Of course my darling.  _ Of course I will _ . I’d like nothing better.” his voice was a breathy whisper. He saw Crowley grin, his lovely golden eyes crinkling at the edges with pleasure as he brought Aziraphale’s hand to his lips and kissed it, then held the angel’s hand to his chest as if it were a cherished possession. “Thank you angel. I honestly wasn’t prepared for you to say no, so I’m extremely relieved”. He then reached into his pocket and held his hand out to Aziraphale, palm up. There, in his upturned hand were two rings. One was a broad band of black obsidian with a feather etched in it in white-gold, the other was a fine, slender white-gold band with a feather etched on it in black obsidian. Aziraphale reached for the white-gold one, but Crowley stopped him. “No angel, the black one is for you” he said, grinning broadly like a fool. “I wear the bright one. I liked the irony of it.. And it’ll remind me of you when I see it on my finger.” 

Aziraphale liked this idea too. He let Crowley pick up the black ring and slip it onto his ring finger, and he then slipped the slender white-gold ring onto the demon’s finger. “There” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “It’s official” He squeezed Crowley’s hand affectionately and brought it up to his lips to press little kisses across Crowley’s knuckles. “My husband” he said with deep affection. 

“My husband” Crowley repeated, a blush spreading slowly across his cheeks and down his chest. 

“Darling?” Aziraphale asked, feeling himself flushing and suddenly nervous. “I think I’d like to be alone with you as soon as possible if that’s alright”. He smiled at Crowley through his thick lashes, and his flirtatious look had the desired effect. Crowley turned a deeper shade of pink and immediately stood from the table. He pulled Aziraphale up by his hand and tossed a large wad of bills down.

“Come on angel” he said gruffly, pulling Aziraphale towards the door by the hand. “Let’s get out of here”. 

They made it out to the Bentley, pausing to kiss madly for a moment before Crowley opened the door for Aziraphale and shoved him inside. On the ride back to Crowley’s flat, Aziraphale amused himself by slowly stroking his hand up and down Crowley’s long thigh, and watching Crowley squirm and gasp while he tried to avoid hitting several pedestrians. “Angel” he said through gritted teeth as Aziraphale’s hand grazed dangerously close to the crotch of his tight jeans and the stiff cock encased therin. “You’re going to get us both discorporated before I have a chance to get you into bed.” 

Aziraphale let out a nervous giggle, but didn’t stop what he was doing. “You’ll just have to focus harder darling. I can’t be held responsible for your atrocious driving” and with that, he let his hand stray over the front of Crowley’s jeans and watched in satisfaction as the demon’s mouth fell open and he had to jerk the wheel in order to avoid swerving into oncoming traffic. Aziraphale wasn’t afraid. He knew now that Crowley’s wild driving was only ever just a tactic to get a rise out of Aziraphale, to tease him and have the opportunity to watch him squirm. He was enjoying the payback quite a bit. 

Crowley pulled up haphazardly in front of his flat and practically wrenched Aziraphale from the passenger seat and towards the front doors. 

Once they were alone in the lift, Crowley backed Aziraphale against the wall and kissed him with heated fervor. Aziraphale let his hands grab Crowley’s sweet, firm arse and pulled their pelvises together as he kissed the demon back with enthusiasm. He was getting incredibly worked up by the feel of Crowley’s lithe body pressed tightly up against him and by the feel of the demon’s hot mouth working against his own. 

Nether noticed the ding of the lift and the doors opening until they started to drift closed again. Crowley then pulled himself away from Aziraphale with what looked like an act of pure will and grabbed at the doors before they could close all the way. He pulled Aziraphale to the front door and magicked the locks open with a snap of his fingers. As soon as they were inside, he’d slammed Aziraphale against the door and returned to kissing him, his hands roaming hungrily over the angel’s hips and waist. 

“Darling..Might we go to your bedroom please?” Aziraphale managed when Crowley abandoned kissing his lips and had let his mouth drift down to the narrow swath of the angel’s neck that was visible and accessible above his starched collar. 

“Yeah. Of course babe” Crowley mumbled and the pair hurried to Crowley’s bedroom. 

“Angel. Get naked.  _ Now _ ” Crowley demanded the moment they were inside. Aziraphale hurried to comply, snapping his clothes away in an instant, and Crowley did the same. And then they were in each others arms, kissing with abandon. Crowley pulled them down onto the bed and they wrapped around each other, skin rubbing on skin, mouths open and hot and sliding together. 

“Crowley. I .. I .. want to take care of you” Azirpahale stammered out in between kisses. “I want to be so good to you. I hated it down there, thinking of you having to spend any time at all in that horrible place. I want to be ever so good to you until you forget all about it”

“I’d like that angel. Be as good to me as you want.” Crowley smiled and kissed Aziraphale again, harder, with a note of desperation. 

Aziraphale broke the kiss and leaned back a bit to look intently into Crowley’s eyes. “I’ll do everything I can to make you happy my darling” he said somberly. “Please lie back and let me show you how sweet I can be”. 

Crowley arched a curious brow, but he complied, lying back against the black silk pillows and regarding Aziraphale with interest. 

Aziraphale began by stroking his fingers through Crowley’s hair. “I’ve always loved your hair” he said with deep affection “It’s such a lovely color. Dark copper. And so soft. I can’t tell you how long I’ve waited to get my fingers into it”. He was pleased to see a grin spread across Crowley’s face at his compliments. The angel carded his fingers lovingly through the demon’s silky hair, grabbing tender fistfulls and then releasing them, pleased to see Crowley’s eyes drift closed in pleasure.

Next, Aziraphale lowered his head to kiss the side of Crowley’s long neck. He heard the demon’s sharp intake of breath as he placed a trail of soft, wet kisses down the side of the demon’s silky neck from his jawline to his collarbone. He spoke his next words into the sensitive flesh there. “I’ve always loved this long neck of yours. Like a swan. It drove me wild to see you turn your head and show your neck to me. I had to work ever so hard to hide how much it inflamed me, how much I longed to kiss you there.” He heard Crowley let out a low groan as he continued his trail of kisses across the demon’s collarbone and down onto the smooth pectoral muscles of his chest. 

“Dear god, this chest of yours. I can’t tell you how glad I was when you started wearing those indecent silk shirts with the top buttons undone. But It made it very hard to concentrate when I could see glimpses of your beautiful chest peaking out at me” Aziraphale placed more lingering kisses across the demon’s smooth skin, pausing to swirl his tongue around a pink nipple, giving it a small bite with his teeth. Crowley cried out the angel’s name in a breathless voice and he felt the demon’s hands clutching at his shoulders. He smiled against Crowley’s skin. 

“I’m glad you’re enjoying this darling” he said softly, letting his kisses drag a bit lower, onto Crowley’s sternum, wriggling down the bed as he went. “Because I’m just getting started.”

He had now reached the demon’s flat stomach. He lingered here for a while, placing languid, wet kisses all over Crowley’s middle. “Mmmm. This sweet stomach. This I’d never seen before last night. You had the nerve to never walk around shirtless around me. Your stomach is so lovely. So sweet.” he lazily ran his hot tongue in a circle around Crowley’s navel. The demon was making all sorts of interesting noises. Gasping and moaning, he squirmed under Aziraphale’s tender ministrations. 

“Aziraphale” Crowley breathed. “Angel.. You’re going to kill me. It’s too much.” He was thrusting his hips up against Aziraphale now and the angel could feel the demon’s hot, hard cock pressed against Aziraphale’s chest where he hovered over the demon’s flat stomach. 

Aziraphale didn’t respond, he simply let his kisses lazily travel lower until he was kissing the taut skin of the demon’s lower abdomen, just above the head of his straining cock. Crowley was babbling incoherently “Angel. Angel, dear Satan angel. I..I...please.  _ Please _ ” He was begging now. Aziraphale loved the sound of it. But he wasn’t done worshipping Crowley’s body. 

“Oh this little spot. Right here, above your cock, and this little trail of hair leading down..This I had definitely  _ not  _ seen before we first made love. Not in six thousand years my darling.” He kissed Crowley lingeringly again, letting his warm breath brush against the skin of Crowley’s groin. “This spot is so good.” Aziraphale planted a few more soft, gentle kisses to the smooth, tight flesh, feeling the head of Crowley’s cock jutting up temptingly against the bottom of his chin, as if it were begging for attention. Aziraphale ignored Crowley’s open mouthed gasping and continued kissing down the trail of fine hair and across the demon’s lower stomach, letting the demon’s cock slid against his throat. He was dangerously aroused at this point. His own cock, painfully erect was pressing against the mattress beneath them and Aziraphale could feel his hips slowly thrusting, as if of their own accord. 

“I weep for all the centuries I wasn’t able to kiss you right here. Right in this beautiful place between your belly and your cock.” he looked up at Crowley and saw that the demon had propped himself up on his elbows and was gazing down at Aziraphale with glazed eyes and a slack mouth. He looked drunk with desire. Aziraphale felt his heart clench painfully at the sight.

“Have you no idea how breathtakingly beautiful you are my dear?” he whispered. And then he captured Crowley’s head between his soft lips and sank his mouth down onto Crowley’s long, hot cock in one slow motion. 

Crowley cried out loudly and his fingers gripped into Aziraphale’s hair. “Oh angel! Oh Dear… oh  _ god _ !” he blasphemed carelessly as Aziraphale slowly pulled back up and then sank down again with his clever mouth. He couldn’t believe how good it felt to have Crowley’s entire length buried deep in his mouth, jutting against the back of his throat. He moaned in pleasure at the feeling of being filled so completely, and then set about sucking Crowley in a steady rhythm, swirling with his tongue and letting his lips drag against Crowley’s length. Crowley’s cries took on a desperate note, and the hands in Aziraphale’s hair gripped even tighter. The pleasurable pain radiating from his scalp caused Aziraphale’s own cock to twitch where it was pressed into the mattress. He loved the feel of the demon’s slender fingers clutching in his hair. And he felt his eyes roll back slightly when the demon began to use his grip to pull Aziraphale’s head down a bit on every downstroke. 

Yes.  _ Yes _ . He wanted Crowley to fuck his mouth, to use him for his pleasure. He nodded and gave an encouraging noise when he felt the tentative tugs on his hair, and Crowley began to pull Aziraphale’s head down onto his cock with more force. He simultaneously began to thrust up into Aziraphale’s mouth a bit. This drove the head of the demon’s cock more forcefully against the back of Azirapahle’s throat. The sensation was incredibly good and Aziraphale moaned in response. He felt owned. Used in the most delicious way. Fucked by the demon’s cock inside his mouth. His own cock was painfully hard. He was certain he could reach orgasm by simply rubbing himself against Crowley’s silk sheets as the demon thrust into his mouth with increasing force. 

“Aziraphale” Crowley gasped in a ragged voice. “Angel. I’m going to come soon. Your mouth. It’s so good. I can’t hold out any longer”. Aziraphale nodded to show that he was ready, and began to trust his own cock into the silky soft sheets and the firmness of the mattress beneath him, feeling his own orgasm build swiftly. Crowley thrust up into Aziraphale’s mouth a few more times, then arched his back and came with a loud cry, his hot semen filling Aziraphale’s mouth and coursing down his throat. Aziraphale held on to Crowley’s hips and with a final volley of thrusts against the mattress, he felt himself clench and explode in tight pleasure. Hearing Crowley’s hoarse cries of pleasure drove him over the edge. 

When Crowley’s orgasm wound down and when Aziraphale felt his own spasms of pleasure fade away, he slowly pulled his mouth up and off of the demon’s cock, being careful to clean any last remnants of semon with his tongue as he went. Then, after snapping away the mess from his own orgasm, he clambered up beside Crowley to take the demon into his arms. Crowley clung to him panting with happy exertion, returning Aziraphale’s embrace. He nuzzled his face into Aziraphale’s neck and breathed in deeply, pressing his body against the angel’s in a delightful way that made Aziraphale want to do what he’d just done all over again.  _ We have time _ he reminded himself.  _ Lots and lots of time _ .

Crowley mumbled something into Aziraphale’s neck.

“What was that darling?” The angel asked gently. Crowley leaned back a bit so that he could look Aziraphale in the eyes with his dilated bright yellow gaze. “I said angel, or, started to say...that no one has loved me like this, this devotedly and this purely since… well… since Her. God was probably the last person to love me. Not carnally of course” He corrected with a sly smile. “But … you know.”

Aziraphale felt a quiet sort of joy bubbling up inside of him. A joy that was tempered slightly by a sad sort of regret. “My dearest. You should have been loved like this from the beginning. Had I known you’d return my feelings, I’d have kissed you so so long ago”. He stroked Crowley’s soft, dark red hair with gentle fingers as he gazed lovingly into the demon’s bright gold eyes.

“It’s alright angel. I didn’t even know my own feelings until… what was it? Probably the early seventeenth century. I probably loved you a little bit, way back in The Garden, up on that wall when you told me you gave your sword away and when you sheltered me under your wing. But it took a long time for it to… sort of... come to the surface.”

Aziraphale smiled. “Same here my dearest. I loved you for a long time but pretended it was something else. I’m glad I can stop pretending now”.

“Me too angel. Me too”. They entwined their fingers, both marveling at how good their new wedding rings looked, clasped together, then curled up closer against one another. Aziraphale pulled Crowley’s black silk sheets over their intertwined bodies and they drifted off to sleep, secure in the warmth of each other’s love, sheltered by each other’s arms. 


End file.
